


Cold Hard Cash

by meowitskatmofo



Series: Cold Hard Cash [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, BDSM, Breathplay, Coercion, Extremely Dubious Consent, Heavy BDSM, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Porn With Plot, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Coercion, Smut, Spanking, Toys, because reasons, mob boss Len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-06 15:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 113,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14059836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowitskatmofo/pseuds/meowitskatmofo
Summary: Barry Allen is in deep debt to mob boss Leonard Snart.No job, no money; what's a guy to do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译/冷闪】Cold Hard Cash](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16334600) by [wuchilanyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuchilanyan/pseuds/wuchilanyan)



Eighty six dollars and nineteen cents. 

Barry Allen counted it all out, staring down at the money on his counter in dismay. It wasn't enough, not even close. 

He had lost his job this morning because he had been over an hour late for the third time already this week. Sixteen out of the twenty days that he was scheduled to work this month he was either late or had called off. 

Too many absences, too many tardies, his manager had told him. He was fired. 

Barry had begged, desperate for one more chance. He had been meeting with his father's attorney to hopefully get a new trial soon, and he had lost track of the time. It would never happen again, not ever, he had pleaded. 

His manager was not moved in the slightest, giving him his last check and quickly showing him the door. Defeated and sullen, Barry cashed the measly check and returned home only to find more bad news awaited him. 

Rent was overdue, had been for some time, and an eviction notice greeted him on his apartment door. He lightly banged his head against the frame, groaning loudly and fighting back a wave of tears. Today had easily been one of the worst days of his entire life. 

And he still had one more errand to run, the worst one of all. 

Barry had to go explain why he couldn't make a payment this month to his loan shark. Considering he hadn't paid last month, well, he didn't expect the conversation to go very well. 

He groaned loudly, looking about his tiny apartment with a sad frown. He had already pawned anything of value weeks ago to buy groceries. He didn't even own a television any more, much less a cell phone. He had checked his ratty sofa twice for loose change, and even down in between the cushions of his recliner. 

He was so fucked. 

Barry scraped the money off the counter, every last penny, and carefully tucked it all away into his pocket. He took a deep breath, and headed out to see Maury. He prayed that he would find him in a generous mood. 

Maurice Martine was a shark with a legendary reputation. Maury the Mouth, people called him, known for being quite chatty and his long, wide lips. Once upon a time, he was also known to be pretty fierce with a crowbar if payment didn't arrive in a timely manner. 

In his golden years, he was a tad more tame, and Barry had known him since he was a child. He was still a bit rough around the edges, but he was the only friend Barry had in the whole world. 

Maurice was the only one who had supported him when his father had been arrested, the only other person who believed that he was innocent. 

Maurice was wringing his hands when Barry arrived at his pawn shop downtown, nearly in tears as he said, "Hey, kid. We gotta talk." 

"Look, I know I'm a tiny bit behind," Barry said, biting his lip anxiously, "But I can give you like twenty bucks? Maybe thirty? I've gotta just make sure I can get some ramen or something while I look for another job, and-" 

"Thirty bucks? Come the fuck on, kid!" Maurice groaned, smacking Barry upside the back of his head. "You're supposed to pay me a grand a month, thirty is a fuckin' joke!" 

"Ow!" Barry yelped, rubbing his scalp where Maurice had popped him. He pouted, protesting, "Hey, I'm really trying, Maury!" 

"Listen, kid," Maurice said, still visibly upset. "Listen fuckin' good. Cold's bought me out. The whole block. I can't... I can't gives you no more extensions, kid. He wants his money, and he wants it now." 

Barry's eyes widened, his breath seizing in his throat. 

Cold; Captain Cold. 

Boss Cold now, a mob boss who owned practically every inch of Central City. Ruthless, savage, and too smart for the cops to ever pin anything on him. Drugs, gambling, whatever. 

If it was illegal, it didn't happen within city limits without his blessing. 

"But... it's..." Barry gawked, quickly do the math in his head. "I owe you over a hundred thousand dollars! I, I don't have it! You've been letting me make payments for months! I've been trying!" 

"No, kid." Maurice shook his head, sighing heavily. "Try a quarter of a million bucks. Cold's hit all outstanding accounts with a penalty. You gotta pay up, or he's gonna start breaking bones. Okay?" 

Barry felt faint, his head bobbling frantically. "I don't... I don't have anything." Tears were fighting to escape, collapsing on Maurice's rickety sofa as he held his face in his hands. Despair was taking over, a breath away from sobbing as he gasped, "I already sold my car last year, I just lost my job, I'm about to be evicted from my apartment. I don't even have a hundred dollars to my name. I have absolutely nothing." 

Maurice twisted his fingers anxiously, saying, "Well... there is something." 

"What?" 

"How much do you know about Boss Cold?" 

"Not much," Barry replied, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Uhhh... he was a captain in the Santini family, that's when he got the nickname Captain Cold. Then he broke off and started his own gang, ran the Santinis all off, took over." 

"And?" 

"I haven't exactly looked him up on Wikipedia, Maury," Barry mumbled. 

"He's gay," Maurice whispered in a hushed tone, glancing around as if someone actually might be listening to their conversation. He looked triumphant, as if somehow this revelation solved the problem. 

"So?" Barry held out his hands, not making the connection. 

"So, you're one of them multi-sexuals, right?" 

Barry flushed, stammering, "Y-yeah, I'm bisexual, still not understanding what any of this has to do with me owing Boss Cold an absurd amount of money." 

Maurice came over and sat down next to Barry, the sofa squeaking in complaint from the added weight. "There's a rumor, okay, that Cold will let people work off their debt," he said excitedly, "You get me?" 

Barry stared dumbly, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

"You work it off by gettin' him off, okay?" 

"Oh, God! No!" Barry was instantly aghast, shaking his head. What Maurice was suggesting was prostitution. He felt dirty all over even thinking about it. "I-I can't do that!" 

"Kid, you're real pretty, and right now that's the only fuckin' thing you got goin' for you," Maurice said softly. "When Cold's people come lookin' for their money, I gotta know what to tell them." 

"You tell them, you tell them to give me more time!" Barry pleaded, reaching for Maurice's hands. "Please, Maury. I can't, I can't whore myself out like, like a whore. Crap, I just... I can't do it." 

"Kid, this is probably your only chance," Maurice insisted, patting Barry's hand. "I've known your family a long time. Your old man used to fix up my kids whenever they had a runny nose or a fever, wouldn't take a dime. That's s'why when you came to me for help? I helped, but-" 

"Then help me now!" Barry cried, frantic and angry. 

"I fuckin' can't help you no more," Maurice snapped, frustrated. "This is gonna end one of two ways, kid. Either on your back in Cold's bed? Or on your back in your fuckin' coffin." He stood up, brushing away Barry's hands, snorting, "You pick." 

Eighty six dollars and nineteen cents. 

Barry kept counting it out in his head, sniffing softly. "I don't know, I just... I don't know what to do." 

Maury clapped a comforting hand on Barry's shoulder, his long mouth twisting up into a smile. "Hey, look. I'll... I'll try talkin' to 'em. Maybe I'lls tells 'em you've gone all mentally irregular and can't pay or somethin'." 

"Thanks," Barry mumbled, laughing half-heartedly. "I appreciate that." 

"Keep your fuckin' thirty bucks, go get a good meal," Maury suggested, "I'll come see you if I hears anythin'." 

"Thanks, Maury," Barry said, getting to his feet and pulling him into a tight hug. 

"Take care of yourself, kiddo," Maurice sighed, slapping Barry's back and affectionately patting his cheek as they parted. "I'll sees ya 'round." 

Barry bid farewell and started back home, his head hanging low. Maybe he'd treat himself to pizza, something good for his last meal since Boss Cold was probably gonna murder him soon. He laughed miserably to himself, sighing. This day had gone from bad to worse to an absolute nightmare in only a few hours. 

He tried to stay optimistic. After all, nothing else could possibly happen, right? 

Barry fumbled for his keys as he walked down his hall, but he soon realized he didn't need them. His front door was already open, stopping right in his tracks and his pulse beginning to thump in his ears. 

Well, crap. 

He slowly walked through the open doorway, gasping when he saw a strange man on his sofa. He had certainly seen the man's picture on the news before, recognizing him in an instant. 

Oh, God. 

No. 

"Hello there, Barry Allen. I don't have a habit of making house calls," Boss Cold rumbled, his voice a deep purr, "But I was reviewing my latest acquisitions and considering the amount of your outstanding balance... mmm, I felt it required a personal visit." 

Barry clutched his keys to his chest, staring dumbly in terror. 

Leonard Snart, Boss Cold, was stretched out across Barry's couch with his feet kicked up over the back, his arms tucked behind his head. He wore a dark blue three piece suit, a long navy blue trench coat, and black leather gloves. His shoes were expensive, his tie was definitely silk, and a long scarf was woven around his neck. 

Cold looked like a napping cat, relaxed but every muscle was a bundle of coiled danger, ready to strike at any second. 

Dangerous, and wow, beautiful. His lips were made for sin, and those eyes of his were sure to kill Barry quicker than anything. They were so blue and piercing that Barry felt sure the gangster could count the pennies in his pocket right through the denim. 

"Uhhh," Barry sputtered, his keys jingling in his nervous hands. Cold's mugshots did him a great disservice. He didn't think he had seen anyone that was so handsome in person. Maybe on television or on a magazine cover, but not face to face, not right there on his sofa. "I... uhh..." 

Cold glanced around, giving Barry a reprieve from his icy gaze, musing, "Can't imagine that you'll be able to make a payment today and after a quick little look around? I already know you don't have anything to offer as collateral. I imagine whatever you had of value is in Maurice's pawn shop, mm?" 

"Look, uh, Mr. Cold, sir?" Barry began, "Listen. I've been having a really, really bad day. And you don't care, right, I totally get that. But please. I just lost my job today, and, and I've been really trying-" 

The floor creaked behind him. 

"Allow me to introduce you to my associate," Cold chirped, cocking his head to the side as he looked over Barry's shoulder. "This is Mick Rory. Mick, this is Mr. Allen. Say hello." 

A giant hand curled around the back of Barry's neck and he gasped softly, a deep voice greeting in an all too friendly tone, "Hi." 

Barry squeaked quietly in panic, smiling stupidly as he turned his head to gaze up into the terrifying visage leering over him. 

Mick Rory, Heatwave. 

Today sucked. So much. 

"Mick?" Cold said, his tone far too cheerful, "Will you please give Mr. Allen some encouragement to be a bit more timely with his payments?" 

"Gladly," Mick grunted, fingers tightening down and dragging Barry towards the stove. 

Barry was helpless in Mick's iron grip, kicking and struggling was utterly useless. But damn if he didn't try anyway. Especially when Mick lit the stove and got the burner going. 

Oh, God. Barry's eyes widened in terror as Mick began to stretch out his hand towards the flame. He was going to burn him. He was going to freakin' burn his hand! 

"Wait, wait, please!" Barry screamed, wiggling frantically as he tried to pull his hand out of Mick's giant paws. 

Mick's eyes were somewhere else, somewhere lost in the little flame on the stove. He was dragging Barry's hand over to the eye, the most horrible smile lighting up his face. 

Cold watched impassively, not affected by Barry's cries. He glanced at his nails as if debating the merits of a manicure. He was very handsome; a complete bastard, but an attractive one. 

What if... what if Maurice was right? 

Barry was desperate, and he definitely did not want Mick Rory to burn his hand or any other part of his body. He had no job, no money, and he was all out of options. 

His body really was all that he left. 

"Wait!" Barry shouted, snapping his head around to look at Cold. "We, we can work something out!" 

"I'm afraid we're far, far past that point," Cold drawled, bored. "Empty promises don't have any cash value, Mr. Allen. Take your punishment like a good boy, and-" 

"Me! You can have me!" Barry yelled frantically when he felt the heat of the flame warming up the tips of his fingers. "I'll get you off, I'll freakin' get you off, please, I'll do whatever you want!" 

Cold's brow arched curiously, calling out, "Mick, hold up." 

Mick snapped out of his little daze, frowning. He pulled Barry's hand back, pouting softly. 

Barry had never seen someone look so disappointed before. 

Cold slowly swung his legs off the sofa in one fluid motion, his feet hitting the floor and rising up to approach. He strolled over to Barry, a strange little smirk playing over his lips. He came close, so close that Barry could smell his cologne and see the splash of silver glittering throughout his dark hair. 

"I'll... I'll do whatever you want," Barry offered nervously, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. 

"Whatever I want?" Cold echoed. 

"Maurice said... uh, that maybe, you'd be interested...?" Barry's voice was almost a squeal, Mick's firearm tightening around his neck. "That I could work off my debt... by... getting you off?" 

Oh, Barry felt like a complete and total fool for saying it out loud. He couldn't read Cold's expression, not at all, and he could hear Mick chuckling fainting behind him. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe Maury had been wrong. 

"Tell me, Mr. Allen," Cold purred, his eyes scanning over Barry's body from head to toe, "Do you want to... get me off?" 

"I want to... do whatever keeps you from burning my fingers off?" Barry replied dumbly, not sure how to answer the question honestly. 

"No, no, no," Cold said, shaking his head, gesturing for Mick to release him. He slid his gloved fingers over the redness around Barry's neck, fingers lightly pressing down as he drew him close. His voice dropped even deeper, husky and seductive, slowly asking again, "Do you really... want to get me off?" 

It wasn't fair for anyone to sound that sexy, and Barry shivered all over from the cool leather touching his skin. Cold's eyes were so pretty, and that smirk stretching out his lips was downright wicked. Of all the mob bosses in the world to give his body to, at least this one was ridiculously gorgeous. 

Barry's hands came up to instinctively rested on Cold's wrists, nodding. "Yeah..." 

Cold flinched at Barry's touch, and Mick shifted uncomfortably behind him. Barry didn't understand, but it felt like he had done something wrong. Cold didn't move him away, and Mick didn't try to set him on fire again, so he remained as he was. 

Cold leaned closer still, his eyes studying Barry's lips, a gloved thumb slowly tracing over his chin. 

Barry inhaled sharply, his lashes fluttering as his heart thumped heavily in his chest. He didn't know how to define this new feeling, but the way Cold was holding his neck, firmly and yet so tenderly, was making his knees weak. He could feel Cold's breath tickling over his face, and he could detect the faint scent of wintergreen. 

Barry couldn't recall any other time he had been so scared in his life. This man before him was a criminal, a murderer and a monster. But there was something electric burning between them, a sensation that sent warmth down below his belt and made his mind glaze over. He was completely captivated, the adrenaline rushing through him causing every inch of his body to tingle in anticipation. 

Barry didn't know what was crazier; that Boss Cold might be about to kiss him, or that he actually wanted him to. 

"Let's have a little chat, Mr. Allen," Cold said, breaking the spell as he released him, strolling back to the sofa. He beckoned Barry to follow with a finger, Mick grabbing him by his shoulders and pushing him along. 

"Here's the deal," Cold announced, stretching back across the sofa, his feet now finding their place on the coffee table. "Because I am such a benevolent criminal, I've decided to accept your little offer. Let's say, eight hours a night? From nine o'clock in the evening until five o'clock in the morning you will belong to me. Since you told me that you lost your job, I'm sure you have oodles of free time." 

Mick shoved Barry down into his recliner, staring awkwardly at Cold as he listened to his demands. His pulse was still racing away, but it was easier to stay focused when the gangster wasn't so close. "O-okay." 

"For services rendered, I will pay you ten thousand dollars a night," Cold continued, a smug smirk playing over his lips. "If you happen to exceed my expectations, I reserve the right to give you a bonus. Let's say, another five thousand? But, should you be disappointing or displease me at any time, I will end the deal and penalize you another hundred thousand dollars." 

Barry thought he might throw up. What the fuck was he getting himself into. This was a huge risk. Even if he managed to please Cold every night, it would take almost a month to pay off what he owed. And if he screwed up? God, he'd be ruined and Mick would certainly turn him into barbecue. 

He anxiously rubbed a hand through his hair, nails scratching at the back of his neck. "What... what uh, what do you want me to do?" 

"Whatever I want," Cold drawled, laughing softly. "That's what you offered, remember? I can promise you that I won't do anything that would cause any lasting damage... but remember, you must obey my every order, or the deal is off." 

Barry licked his lips, wishing he could see another way to get himself out of this. He had no idea what a man like Cold might ask of him, but he was desperate. This was all he had left to give. "When do you want me to-" 

"Tonight," Cold replied immediately, "Think of it... as a test run. Take you for a spin before I decide to buy." He stood up, gracefully strolling over to Barry and handing him a small business card. "Here." 

It was for the Wynne Hotel, a large and swanky establishment downtown. "At the desk, ask for Lionel Winters' room. They'll send you right up." He stroked a gloved hand over Barry's cheek, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he said, "Nine o'clock. Don't be late." 

Barry could only nod, staring up at the beautiful gangster as he pulled away, he and Mick departing. The door shut and even though Barry was expecting it, the sound still made him jump. 

"Holy crap," he said, panting erratically. He was still full of adrenaline and had nowhere to put it, getting to his feet and starting to clean. He matched socks and folded his thread bare towels, he washed dishes, and scrubbed his counters. He couldn't sit still, finally collapsing back in his recliner and cradling his face when he was finally exhausted.

He started doing the math in his head again, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Barry owed over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 

At ten thousand dollars a night, that meant at least twenty five nights, probably twenty six, to completely clear his debt. 

The bonuses would certainly help, but God knew what it would take to earn one. He already had to worry about pleasing Boss Cold and obeying his every order without having any idea what might be asked of him. He could assume the worst, but Barry was actually intrigued. He'd never been brave enough to be very adventurous in the bedroom before. 

Maybe this would actually be educational, he tried to tell himself hopefully. Maybe he would even enjoy it. He hadn't had a boyfriend or a girlfriend in a very long time. The company of his own hand had been the only outlet for stress relief for a while now. 

Although intimidating, Cold was very handsome, and Barry caught himself wondering what could be hiding under all those layers of clothing. He'd find out soon enough, daydreaming about ripping pecs and washboard abs. He used his precious eighty six dollars and nineteen cents to order a small pizza, the highlight of a very crappy day, leaving him with fifty six dollars and eighty four cents to get a cab downtown with. 

Fuck. 

Even though working for Cold was going to take care of his debt to him, it still wasn't going to feed him or pay his rent. He still had to find another job. He gobbled up the pizza, flipping through the classifieds in search of employment. He began to lose track of the time, making a list of places to visit tomorrow and hopefully find a place that would be willing to pay him in advance. 

By the time he looked at the clock, it was already a few minutes past eight. 

"Ohhh, fuck," Barry moaned in frustration. He had to get ready, anxiously hurrying to his room to change clothes. He thumbed through his closet, trying to decide what to wear. 

Was this like a date? Should he dress up a little? What was the appropriate attire to go have sex with a mob boss to settle a debt? 

He picked out the nicest shirt he owned, a simple button up in a rich red that he'd always been told was his color. He switched between a few different pairs of jeans until he settled on one that fit his long legs well. He was digging through his shoes when it suddenly struckhim that whatever he wore probably didn't matter. 

After all, it was all going to end up on the floor, wasn't it? 

He sighed, pulling on his old faithful black sneakers and grabbing his jacket as he rushed out the door. He hailed a cab and promised a big tip if they could get to the Wynne Hotel before nine. They had to hurry, Barry's palms already sweating and his stomach turning somesaults the entire way downtown. 

He had a pretty good feeling that Boss Cold did not appreciate tardiness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, Coldflash fandom! :D
> 
> I was inspired by [THIS](http://all-decay.tumblr.com/post/166079016874/au-leonard-a-mob-boss-in-central-city-and-barry) beautiful board by all-decay, and I've been itching all over to write for this pairing. Like send creams itching. Anyway. Mob AU where Barry Allen is just a down on his luck guy trying to get his father out of jail, borrowed way too much money, and now he's in super deep debt to the ruthless Boss Cold. His body is all that he has left, and Cold is willing to make a deal... under his terms, of course.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's first evening with Leonard Snart.

Barry's stomach dropped to his feet as he rode the elevator up to the executive level of the Wynne Hotel. The receptionist had given him a skeptical look when he asked for access to Mr. Winters' room, but she passed him a key card without question. He tapped his foot anxiously as the lower floors dinged by, taking a deep breath as the doors finally opened. 

There were several large, burly men in suits blocking the hallway, every one of them staring him down as he stepped off the elevator. They did not look friendly. 

Barry was struck by a bolt of panic, trying to back into the elevator, but the doors had already closed behind him. He gulped, trying to appear as small and as unthreatening as possible, waving shyly as all the blood in the body rushed to his face. "Uh, hi." 

"Better hurry up," the familiar voice of Mick Rory rumbled. "Boss ain't gonna be happy if you're late." 

"Yeaaaah," Barry gulped, bravely taking a few steps forward. He didn't know what time it was, but he knew he had to be cutting it close. "Hey, Mr. Rory." 

Mick lumbered out from the ranks of his fellow suited giants, grinning in that unnaturally friendly way of his. He waved back, cheerfully greeting, "Good to see you again, Twig. Miss me?" 

"Yeah, I always love seeing people who tried to burn me," Barry mumbled, regretting his retort immediately. He attempted a sweet smile, hoping the giant man had a sense of humor. 

To his relief, Mick laughed. 

Barry did not. 

"Hey, ain't nothin' personal," Mick said, leering smugly, "Just business." He nodded at two of the men, commanding, "Search him." 

Barry didn't protest as he got patted down roughly, Mick giving him a crooked smile as he said, "Can't be too careful, Twig." 

"Right." 

"You be sure to show the boss a real nice time," Mick teased, winking lecherously as the other men chuckled amongst themselves. 

Barry's face was suddenly too hot, and he wished he could melt into the floor. He practically sprinted to the door, using the key to slip inside and shut it quickly. 

The room was dimly lit, the air much cooler in here than outside in the hall, and it felt good on his blushing face. He saw Cold sitting at a large desk, the only light in the room emanating from a small lamp behind him. 

Cold was wearing a gray sweater that hung nicely on his broad shoulders, the snug fit revealing a much more trim physique than Barry had first suspected. He was also surprised to see a thin pair of black reading glasses perched on Cold's nose as he worked on several thick ledgers spread out in front of him. He appeared relaxed, and made no effort to acknowledge Barry's presence. 

"Good evening," Barry said quietly, not sure how to proceed. 

"Bathroom is around the corner," Cold informed Barry shortly, not even looking up from the sea of papers, "Shower, then put on the robe hanging on the back of the door." 

"I, I took a shower this morning," Barry protested weakly, gulping audibly as he quickly added, "Sir." 

Cold sighed softly, obviously annoyed. He took off his glasses and set down his pen, finally lifting his head to stare Barry down. 

Barry froze under the icy gaze, immediately understanding how the mob boss earned his name. His eyes were piercing, and he was certain they were going to drill holes right through him. He felt trapped, glued to the spot, and God, he couldn't look away. 

"Allow me to make myself very clear, Mr. Allen," Cold said slowly, speaking as if Barry was a child. He steepled his fingers together, his eyes never leaving Barry's for a moment as he went on, "I have been kind enough to offer you this little arrangement to take care of your debt. I expect to get my money's worth, and-" 

"I'm sorry, really, I just have this weird thing about showering in other places that aren't my house? And-" 

Cold held up one finger for silence, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. His entire posture had shifted, tense and ready to pounce. 

Barry shut up immediately. 

"Last chance," Cold warned quietly. "For the next seven hours and fifty seven minutes, you are mine. Your body is my property. You will do whatever I ask of you without hesitation. Please me, and I will ask you to return again. But if you fail to do so and you waste my time, I make sure that you will regret it." 

Barry believed him. 

"Now," Cold sighed, attempting to relax again, "Any questions?" 

A thousand questions came rushing to the surface, but only one managed to make it all the way to Barry's lips, stammering, "D-do you do this a lot? Let people, you know, do this to pay you?" 

Cold looked surprised, an expression Barry felt certain he did not show often. It faded as quickly as it appeared, answering simply, "No." 

Barry waited for more detail, but decided none was coming when Cold resumed his paperwork. He obediently hurried to the bathroom, grateful he could shut the door and have a moment of privacy. 

Holy crap. He was here in Leonard Snart's private room, and they were gonna do stuff. Sex stuff. He knew it was rather juvenile and this whole situation was insane, but his imagination was running through all sorts of debauched fantasies. It wasn't so wrong if he was looking forward this, he decided. He was making the best of the hand he had been dealt. 

Barry took a deep breath, stripping off his clothes. He didn't want to keep Cold waiting. 

He showered quickly, using the products he found in the bathroom, hopping in and out as fast as he could. He pulled the robe on, grateful for the thick fabric when he stepped back into the cool room. 

"Bed," Cold said, his pen still moving and eyes on the papers before him. "Get... comfy." 

Barry did as he was told, stretching out across the massive bed and sighing happily. It was easily the most comfortable bed he'd ever been in, snuggling up against the pillows. He knew better now than to speak, waiting patiently for Cold to tell him what to do. 

"Go ahead and get yourself ready for me," Cold continued briskly, "You'll find what you need in the bedside table drawer." 

Barry quirked his brows, rolling over to inspect the contents of the drawer. He blushed immediately, finding a bottle of lube and several dildos. He was relieved to see they were at least new and still in the package. That was considerate of him, nervously grabbing the lubricant and one of the smaller toys. 

Cold's eyes flicked up for a moment, smirking at his selection. He said nothing, returning to his work. 

Barry didn't understand what was so amusing; the smallest toy was still at least seven inches. He set the toy and lube aside for now, slouching down so his head was nestled in the pillows. He tried to relax, letting his eyes close and quickly running his hands down his chest. He started to untie the robe, opening it up to expose his lean body, still damp from the shower. 

His cock was vaguely interested, half hard against his thigh as Barry's hands moved across his stomach. He began to massage his balls while he started jerking himself off, trying to get hard. He was nervous, his cock not wanting to fully cooperate, his stomach turning uncomfortably. 

He didn't know if he could do this. What the fuck was he thinking? This was all a fucking mistake. Cold was going to get pissed off, and then he was going to let Mick Rory set him on fire, he just knew it. 

Barry didn't notice that Cold's pen had stopped scratching until he heard a low growl, "Slower." 

His eyes snapped open, turning his head to meet Cold's unrelenting gaze. He obeyed, his pace dropping down immediately. Even though the friction had lessened, his cock was now at strict attention. There was something about that growl, about how Cold was looking at him... 

"Yes, sir," Barry found himself replying, spreading his legs wide. He stroked himself a few more times before reaching for the lube, slicking up his trembling fingers. He remembered to take his time, reaching down between his thighs to tease over his entrance. 

He shuddered, the lube was cold and his body instinctively shied away from the sensation. He kept rubbing in delicate little circles while it warmed up, one fingertip slipping inside prompting him to gasp. 

It had been a very long time since he'd had sex, and even longer since he'd been with a man. He still enjoyed pleasuring himself like this when the mood struck him, and he tried to imagine he was at home in his own bed. There was no reason to rush. No one to please but himself, just him and his fingers chasing down waves of pleasure. 

"Mmmmph," he grunted as he pressed his finger all the way in, pumping slowly. He'd almost forgotten how good it was to feel so full, and this was far from over. In the back of his mind that he knew he was prepping himself for Cold's cock, for Cold to be inside of him, and God, how he wanted it. 

"Ohhh... mmm," Barry moaned, rolling onto his side and pulling his knee up to his chest. He whined loudly, quickly reaching behind himself to slip two fingers back into his wet hole. The moist sounds his fingers were making as he plunged in and out of himself were deliciously lewd, the squelching echoing throughout the large room. 

Barry was almost flat on his stomach now, grinding his cock into the mattress. He was absolutely writhing, consumed by his own thrusting hand as his body opened up, trying to find the right angle to reach his prostate as he rubbed himself against the sheets. 

Cold had silently moved to the foot of the bed, purring low, "Toy. Now." 

Barry panted, glancing up in surprise. He hadn't even seen Cold move, glancing over at the dildo. Fuck, it wasn't what he wanted, but he had to obey. He grabbed it, squirting lube all over it and impatiently starting to shove it inside. 

"Slowly," Cold commanded again. 

"But, sir!" Barry protested, desperate, trying to push the toy deeper. "I can take it, I can take it so good." 

"Stop," Cold ordered sharply. 

Barry moaned in frustration, his face flushed and burning. He reluctantly withdrew the toy, rolling onto his back with a pout. 

"Come here, on your hands and knees," Cold said, pointing at the edge of the bed. 

Barry grunted, shrugging off the robe as he crawled over towards Cold. He gazed up at him, licking his lips in anticipation of the next command. He didn't know why, but he really liked this. He liked being told what to do. 

He didn't have to worry about his father, about the money he owed, or even when he was going to eat next. He could give himself over to that velvety voice and listen. All of his cares melted away, his only focus on following the next order. 

"Turn around," Cold said with a little smile, spinning his finger tauntingly. 

Barry groaned softly, his already reddened face feeling hotter, turning as he was asked. He was so exposed, his ass now facing Cold, ducking his head down against the sheets. He should have been embarrassed, but he was excited. He was panting softly, his toes curling as adrenaline pumped all throughout his body. 

He gasped softly as he felt a cool finger sliding between his cheeks, lightly teasing over his hole. He tried to rock his hips back against it, eager for penetration. 

"Mr. Allen," Cold purred, his fingertip gliding around the rim of his ass, refusing to probe any deeper. "I do believe you need to be taught a lesson in obedience." 

"I'm sorry," Barry whined, clawing at the sheets beneath him, “I just, I need-" 

"Shh, shhh, shh," Cold's voice was almost soothing. He withdrew his finger, chuckling softly. "Don't worry... You will learn." He squeezed Barry's cheeks, suddenly rearing back and cracking his palm across his ass. 

"Fuck!" Barry yelped in pain, the sting left behind was unforgiving. He barely had taken a breath before another violent slap rocked his ass. "Oh, fuck," he sobbed, his hands clutching at the mattress. He tried to pivot his body forward for a reprieve, but Cold grabbed his hip with his other hand to hold him firmly in place. 

Over and over Cold spanked him, Barry certain that his ass was going to be bruised tomorrow. He gritted his teeth, panting haggardly as tears ran down his face. Cold was not holding back at all, and it hurt like hell. 

Cold would pause for a few moments, silent except for his heavy breathing, almost tenderly rubbing over where his hand had just slapped before spanking Barry again. The pattern kept repeating, giving Barry only a few seconds to catch his breath in between slams, moaning and squirming 

"Now, when I tell you to do something? It is not a question, it is a command," Cold scolded lightly, giving him one final smack, "You will do it... yes?" 

"I will, sir," Barry gasped, his ass throbbing from the abuse. He could feel his pulse in each cheek and in his cock, mewling pitifully. "I swear, I will." 

"Otherwise, you'll be punished again," Cold warned softly, his hand gently rubbing over Barry's raw flesh. "Do you understand?" 

"Yes, fuck, I do," Barry replied, wiping his tears off on the sheets, turning his head back to look up at Cold. "I understand, sir." 

"Now... the toy. Finish what you started, and perhaps I'll let you come," Cold taunted. 

Barry's eyes bugged out at that, his mind reeling. Being denied his orgasm had never occurred to him, whimpering at the thought. Holy fuck, this was torture. Sweet, beautiful torture, and he quickly grabbed the dildo again. He rolled over on his back, wincing as his tender cheeks touched the mattress. 

"Good boy," Cold sighed, a breathy and pleased sound that made Barry shiver. "Now remember, slowly." 

Barry nodded, groaning as he pushed the toy inside of him at the requested speed. Every inch made him gasp and cry out, sweat beading all across his forehead. The toy felt so much thicker than it had first looked and the angle was awkward. He took his time, managing to push it all the way in and slide it back out, fucking himself at a sluggish pace. 

"There," Cold praised, unbuttoning his pants and reaching down to touch himself as he watched Barry. "Just like that, Mr. Allen." 

Barry strained to look up at Cold, hopeful that he was about to start stripping and he would finally see what he looked like naked. But the mob boss did little more than open up the front of his pants, and that's when Barry got the first glimpse of Cold's cock. 

"Oh, shit," Barry cursed, his eyes wide in shock. Now he understood why all of the toys were so large, but still not a one could compare to what Cold had going for him. 

"Oh, yes." Cold actually grinned, that smug bastard, stroking his thick length as he watched Barry squirm. "Get back on your knees for me. Now." 

To say that Leonard Snart had been blessed sounded too innocent and sweet; it didn't quite capture the underlying terror of knowing that massive thing had to fit inside of his ass. 

Barry groaned as the toy slipped out of him, scrambling to get back into position. He scooted backwards until he felt Cold's hand stop him, sliding along his spine and pushing his head down. He could feel the warm head of Cold's cock pressing against his thigh, closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath. 

He could hear the crinkle of a wrapper, a condom, and then Cold's blunt fingers were probing at his hole. 

"Mmmph, you're still so tight," Cold chuckled cruelly, "Maybe next time you'll prep better." 

Barry gulped softly, moaning as Cold's fingers sunk into him. Next time, Cold had just said it, there was going to be a next time. That meant this was going well despite his previous infraction. He tried to relax as Cold fingered him so roughly, tried to remind himself of what had brought him here. 

Cold continued to tease and stretch out Barry's hole, playing in all the slick left behind from his earlier efforts. He finally seemed satisfied that Barry was ready, the head of his cock suddenly there in place of his fingers without any warning. 

The first sting of penetration took Barry's breath away, trying to breathe through his nose and not scream. Cold was pushing and pushing and forcing Barry's body to open up. He couldn't hold back any longer, shouting as Cold slammed the last few inches of his thick cock inside of him. "Oh, God, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Barry cried, up on his elbows, trying to find any way to relieve the intense pressure. 

"There you go," Cold purred low, already beginning to move his body forward, thrusting deeply into Barry's tight hole. "Just like that, Mr. Allen..." 

Barry couldn't find any relief, Cold's hands holding his hips in place and pulling him back to meet every savage slam. He whimpered and moaned, fearful that he was going to be torn right in half. The pain was intense, but pleasure was starting to lick its way up his spinal cord, sending all the right signals to his brain to make his cock twitch. 

Fuck, it was starting to feel good. 

Really good. 

Barry had never felt so full, his body stretched out to its very limit, sobbing almost hysterically against the mattress. He didn't realize it at first, but Cold had been holding back. His thrusts were deep and mean, but there were a few precious seconds in between each one to let Barry prepare himself for the next. 

Barry pushed himself up on his hands, starting to rock himself back on Cold's cock, grunting loudly. 

Cold moaned quietly, clearly pleased as he growled, "Yes... come on... you look so beautiful fucking yourself on my cock." 

Barry whimpered and blushed at the nasty compliment, continuing to slam his hips back. Beautiful, Cold had called him beautiful. He quickly realized that Cold was no longer moving. He was letting Barry control the pace now. Eager to please, Barry threw his whole body into every thrust, taking every inch as he rocked back as hard as he could. 

Cold allowed this to go on for several long minutes, hands squeezing Barry's hips and gently petting over his raw cheeks, making small noises of encouragement for his efforts. But soon enough he was bored of it, and that was when he finally showed Barry how much he had been restraining himself. 

Cold's hips snapped forward brutally, immediately setting a rapid pace that forced Barry's hips flat against the bed. He cried out, gasping as Cold pressed right on top of him, forcing his legs to spread as he slammed into him. Barry could only moan and sob, helpless to defend against such rough treatment. 

No one had ever fucked Barry so hard before. Cold was using his body only for his own pleasure, growling as he took everything he wanted from him without mercy. The pain waxed and waned, mixed in with an alarming amount of ecstasy that Barry had never experience before. He submitted to Cold's cock pounding away at him, groaning as he gave himself over completely. 

Cold was a quiet lover. He grunted, growled, maybe a soft moan here and there, but he gave little indication that he was enjoying this. It wasn't until he was starting to get close that his breathing became labored and he started to get louder. He cursed, his growls becoming stunted little roars, lifting a hand to slap Barry's already sensitive ass. 

"Fuck!" Barry wailed, tearful and almost exhausted. He didn't know how much more he could take, and Cold was seemingly relentless. Just as he was about to start begging for leniency, Cold was pulling out, leaving him raw and gaping, moaning pitifully. 

"Roll over," Cold croaked, ripping off the condom and jerking himself furiously. 

Barry whimpered, struggling to comply, flopping onto his back. 

"Finish yourself off, now," Cold commanded. 

Barry was lost in Cold's stern voice and his intense gaze, immediately reaching down to touch his aching cock. It had been trapped beneath him against the sheets all of this time, and he realized with a faint grimace that the moisture he felt under his back was from where he had been leaking. 

He took a few deep breaths, sniffing back his tears as he curled his fingers around himself. It only took a few tugs and he was coming, twitching and shouting as come splattered across his stomach. He came so hard that it made his head throb from the rush, moaning, "Fuck... oh, fuck!" 

Cold was moving, suddenly right on top of him, Barry groaning as he realized what he was doing. Cold was going to come on him, he was going to come all over him. Barry couldn't look away from his hand, his oozing cock, begging, "Please, come on, please, do it!" 

Cold's eyes widened ever so slightly, his brow furrowing in concentration. He let out one single gorgeous groan, loud and happy, his cock pulsing long streams of come all over Barry's chest and stomach. It was hot and sticky, and Barry felt absolutely filthy. 

He loved it. 

Barry moaned quietly, his body still trembling from the force of his orgasm, smiling stupidly up at Cold. It was that moment when he realized that he still had no idea what this man looked like naked. They hadn't even kissed yet, his eyes zeroing in on those beautiful lips and wanting to know how they tasted. 

Cold seemed to sense Barry's desire, offering a little smirk as he moved away from the bed before he could find out. He carefully tucked himself away, sighing loudly in satisfaction. 

Barry threw his arm over his face, exhaling sharply. God, that had been intense. Really intense. He was sore all over, especially his poor butt cheeks, stretching out his aching body across the bed. He still couldn't believe they hadn't kissed, not once, making a mental note to remedy that on their next encounter. 

Barry heard the snap of a rubber band, lifting his forearm to see Cold standing over him with a stack of cash. He grimaced when Cold started counting out the bills, letting them fall over his naked and sticky body. They were hundred dollar bills, he realized, a crazy part of his brain wanting to grab them immediately, but he waited. 

He had to wait until Cold said he could move. 

"Consider this... a tip," Cold said with a shrug, smirking happily. "I've decided to officially accept your deal. You'll need to be here again tomorrow night. Nine o'clock." 

Barry didn't move, but a quick glance at the cash scattered all over him definitely didn't seem like the agreed upon amount. "This isn't... ten thousand?" 

"No, it's not," Cold snorted, his brows raised in amusement. "This was just a test run, remember? Think of it as an interview that went exceptionally well. I wasn't going to agree to buy the cow without tasting the milk first, Mr. Allen." 

Barry's face flushed, his head dropping back against the pillows. He had honestly forgotten that tonight wasn't the official start of their arrangement. Crap. 

"Besides, when and if you do earn your ten thousand dollars for a good night's work, did you really think that I was just going to give you cash?" Cold pursed his lips, apparently amused by the idea. 

"Well... yes?" 

"Cash that you would turn around and pay right back to me?" Cold said with a short laugh. 

"When you put it that way, okay, yes, it's..." Barry closed his eyes, sighing in frustration. "Right. Got it." 

"I think your track record proves that you're not fiscally responsible," Cold lectured, making one last adjustment to his sweater before walking back towards the desk. "I wouldn't trust you not to waste it like you did all the rest of the money that you owe me." 

"I didn't waste it," Barry protested softly. 

Cold paused, huffing incredulously. "I've seen your apartment, Mr. Allen. Whatever you spent that cash on, it was definitely a waste because you have nothing to show for it." 

Those words cut deeper than Cold could ever know, Barry's eyes instantly welling up with tears. The crime boss was right. Thousands upon thousands of dollars spent, and his father was still in jail. He sniffed quietly, rolling over onto his side, the crisp bills crunching softly as he moved. 

"Can I go now, sir?" Barry asked, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. 

"Is it five o'clock?" Cold asked sternly. 

"No..." 

"There's your answer," Cold replied flatly as he sat back down at his desk. "Get up. Take a shower. I may wanna fuck you again before you leave." 

Barry had to force himself to get moving, grabbing his robe and gathering up all the sticky bills. He wadded them into a bunch to take with him to the bathroom, shoving them into the pocket of the robe to count later. He shut the door and got the water going, cradling his face in his hands as he sobbed quietly. He collapsed on the floor by the tub, trying to keep his sounds of sorrow as discreet as possible. 

His father was still rotting away in jail for a crime he didn't commit, a fact that Cold had been kind enough to remind Barry of. He knew that Cold hadn't meant to, but Barry had never felt more like a failure than right at that moment. He was no closer to freeing his father despite all the debt he had incurred, he hadn't been able to keep a job for more than a few months, his bank accounts were all in the negative, credit cards maxed out, and his only friend was a crooked old loan shark. 

He had literally just had sex for money with a ruthless criminal, his feelings even more conflicted about what he had done because while he felt completely filthy, he had enjoyed it. Every second of it. 

And he already knew he was going to do it again. Again and again. Because right now, Leonard Snart was the only hope he had of getting his life back on track. Ironic, really, since he was the one threatening Barry's life if he didn't pay up. 

Barry sighed miserably, finally reaching into his pocket to dig out the cash, sniffling sadly as he thumbed through the bills. He frowned as he counted it. That couldn't be right. He counted it again. 

"Holy shit," he breathed excitedly. It was sixteen hundred dollars. 

Cold had tipped him sixteen hundred fucking dollars. 

Barry was giddy. He started laughing, hugging the money tightly to his chest. He could buy groceries, real groceries. He could actually purchase fruit and vegetables, he could eat a real meal. He could finally pay his rent so he wouldn't be kicked out of his apartment. 

Sure beat the hell out of the eighty six dollars and nineteen cents he had started the day with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! The smut fairy visited! :D
> 
> Holy crap baskets, Coldflash peoples, you are all so fantastic. I wish I could smush all of your faces with kisses and huggles. Seriously, I am completely blown away by all the love and wonderful comments. 
> 
> OMG, I really don't think this thing is only gonna be three chapters...
> 
> You all have no idea what monster you have unleashed because now this fic is probably never going to end.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's night with Leonard already has unexpected consequences.

Barry had returned to Cold's bed after his shower, anxiously awaiting the gangster's return. The hours ticked by in silence, Cold working tirelessly at the stack of ledgers in front of him and not paying Barry a bit of attention. 

Barry was quiet, getting comfortable in bed and pulling the blankets up over him. He didn't dare to ask permission to watch television or even order room service as his stomach rumbled, waiting patiently for Cold to want him again. He spent his time looking around the hotel room in search of any clue to the man he had chosen to fall into bed with. 

He found very little. 

The closet door was cracked enough where he could see several suits hanging, all still in plastic from the dry cleaners and several pairs of shoes neatly arranged on the floor. 

There was a briefcase by the desk, black and sleek, but no personal markings. Probably where Cold kept all those stupid books he kept scribbling in. 

The ledgers, Barry blinked as realization struck. That was why the cops couldn't get any evidence on Cold. He was too smart to use any traceable electronic activity to organize his illegal operations. He was old school, pen and paper. 

Those just weren't books, those were the foundation of the entire criminal empire that controlled Central City. 

He decided to keep that revelation to himself, feeling quite proud for putting all of that together. 

Then again, it could just be a collection of crossword puzzles. 

Barry snuggled into the pillows, trying desperately to stay awake. This was supposed to be his big debut to prove himself to Boss Cold. Though the mob boss had already told him that the deal was on, there were still several hours left to play. 

Barry had to admit that despite his aching body, he was looking forward to another round. 

However, the bed was too warm and the pillows too soft. Barry fell asleep while Cold was still working, snoring lightly as he tugged all the blankets all around him. 

At some point, he thought he felt the warmth of another body next to him. Groggily, he reached out towards it, his arm finding a firm chest and clinging to it. He cuddled close, sighing contently. It had been so long since he had slept next to someone. He could have sworn that there was a hand gently resting on his forearm, but he was probably dreaming. 

Barry drifted back to sleep, not waking until there was a loud knock at the door. He was sore but refreshed, stretching out his long legs with a loud groan. He peeked open his eyes, frowning when he realized he was alone. 

Barry perked up his head, glancing around the room to see where Cold was. There was no sign of him, the briefcase and all the books were gone, and the clock at the bedside said it was a few minutes after nine o'clock. 

The knocking continued, almost frantic. 

Barry sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stared at the door, hesitant to answer it. He was in Boss Cold's hotel room. There was no telling who it could be. The knocking had become relentless, and Barry finally stumbled out of bed to peer through the peep hole. 

It was an older woman, very distressed, with a cart full of silver domed dishes. 

Room service. 

Food! 

Barry opened the door, smiling brightly, greeting, "Good morning!" 

"Good morning," the woman replied, clearly upset, "I am so, so very sorry I'm late, I really didn't mean any offense, I swear!" 

"Late?" Barry frowned, confused. He glanced down the hallway, spying two members of Cold's burly entourage posted by the elevator doors. They smirked at him, but said nothing. 

"Yes, I know how much Mr. Winters values punctuality, and I really tried to be here on time! I know he said to be here right at nine, but the kitchen-" 

"Hey! It's okay, really!" Barry exclaimed, blinking rapidly. He wasn't awake enough to handle this much excitement, opening the door to allow her inside. He looked at her name tag, quickly reading it and soothing, "Lola? Hey. I'm Barry. I promise, it's not a big deal." 

"Oh, God! Thank you, thank you so much!" Lola was almost sobbing, quickly pushing the cart inside the room. She quickly set up a folding tray by the edge of the bed, placing one of the smaller domes right in the center. 

Barry wanted to comfort her, saying gently, "Seriously, it's really fine. Thank you so much." 

Lola wiped her eyes, smiling nervously as she gestured at the tray. "Here," she said, "Mr. Winters wanted you to have this first. You, you really need to look at this one first. If you don't... well, if he asks, I told you to. Thank you, so sorry again, thank you." 

Barry was stunned. They both knew who Mr. Winters really was, and Lola was clearly terrified of him. He watched her leave, tail tucked between her legs as the door slammed shut. 

Barry plopped down on the bed, some of the glamour of last night fading away as reality slapped him right in the face. 

Leonard Snart, Boss Cold, was a dangerous criminal. 

Barry had pledged his body to the most feared man in all of Central City. 

Oh, God, what the hell had he been thinking. 

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Barry admitted out loud, scrubbing his hands over his face, whining pitifully. His life was a complete mess, a crazy and horrible mess, but he was determined to see this through. He had no other choice. 

Barry sighed, putting his troubles aside in favor of exploring the giant cart of food. 

He scooted over to the tray, lifting up the top of the dome Lola had been so particular about. He quirked a curious brow when he didn't find any food, but a small card instead. 

He picked it up, opening it up to find a neatly printed message: 

_Balance: $252,007.19_

_Tonight the real work begins._

_-LS_

Barry made a face, dropping the card with a groan. His ass still ached and his cheeks were definitely bruised. He didn't want to know what Cold meant by 'real work', but he had a suspicion he wouldn't be walking straight afterwards. 

He started poking through all the different domes of food on the cart, finding a wide variety of dishes. Pancakes, waffles, fresh fruit, and eggs cooked at least four different ways. He didn't understand why Cold had ordered so much, especially since Barry was obviously going to be dining alone. He appreciated the gesture, but decided not to read too much into it. 

Barry made a valiant effort to eat every last bite until he was about to burst. He finally accepted defeat and waddled to the bathroom to change back into his clothes. He made sure to carefully tuck the cash into his wallet, unable to resist a big smile. He couldn't wait to go grocery shopping or pay his rent, or... oh, fuck, the rent. 

Barry finished getting ready, glancing back at the cart of food. He didn't want to waste any of it, hesitating to leave so much behind. 

He grabbed one of the plates he had managed to empty, stacking up the rest of the fruit and the remaining pancakes. He popped the dome on top, carrying it right to the door. 

Barry would be back tonight, he could return the dish then. He still felt guilty about taking it, but he suspected no one would stop him. 

Barry took a deep breath, wishing he could slip out into the hallway undetected, but the two men were still standing guard. It was the most awkward walk of shame he had ever endured, smiling shyly at the strange looks he got carrying the dish with him. He practically sprinted the last few feet to the elevator, smacking at the button frantically. 

Barry was able to make it outside to the street without anyone questioning the pilfered dish, hailing a cab. He knew he needed to head home to handle his rent situation, but first he had to go see Maurice. He had to tell him that his insane idea actually worked. 

Barry came bounding into the pawn shop, carrying the food proudly, calling out, "Maury! Hey! You're never gonna freakin' believe this!" 

"You ain't sellin' me that, kid," Maurice warned as he peered over the counter, shaking a finger at him when he saw the dish. "I know you're desperate for moolah, but I gotta draw the line at you stealin' shit, kid." 

"What? Oh, no!" Barry shook his head, laughing as he set the dish in front of him and popped the dome off. "I didn't steal anything! These are leftovers... from my breakfast." 

"Breakfast where?" Maurice asked suspiciously as he inspected a strawberry. 

"At the hotel." 

"What fuckin' hotel?" 

"The hotel where I stayed last night..." Barry waggled his eyebrows, hoping Maurice would catch on. 

Maurice's face was blank, munching on the stolen strawberry. 

"With Boss Cold!" Barry exclaimed impatiently. 

"Oh, fuck! Well, how did it go?" Maurice asked, studying Barry's face carefully. "You had sex? Ya' don't smell like sex." 

Barry wasn't about to ask for the specifics of what Maurice considered the scent of carnal activity to be, replying excitedly, "But I did! And, wow. Little intense, okay like, really intense, but he's gonna do it. He's really gonna let me do it, he'll let me work off the debt." 

Maurice actually looked relieved, patting Barry's cheek affectionately. "That's good, kid. Real good. Sees, I told you!" He grabbed the fork from the plate, helping himself to the pancakes. "I'm a fuckin' genius." 

Barry nodded, laughing, "It's so freakin' crazy, Maury. Thank you. It took some, well, some negotiating, but we made a deal. It's gonna take like a month, but I will be able to pay back everything I owe. You see, he and Mick Rory actually came to my apartment yesterday-" 

"Ah, fuck," Maurice grunted, quickly saying, "Hey, I didn't tell thems where you lived. Cold got that on his own. He'll find out everything about you, you know." 

Barry shrugged, snorting, "Yeah? He'll be disappointed. My life isn't exactly that great. Pretty lame actually. But... things are looking up." He eagerly reached into his wallet to show Maurice the cash. 

"Holy fuck," Maurice gasped, then he scowled and popped Barry on the forehead with the fork. "What are ya', crazy? Don't be flashin' that around, kid. You'll get your stupid ass robbed in this damn neighborhood." 

"Ow!" Barry pouted, shoving his wallet back in his pocket. "Sorry!" 

"Don't be sorry, just don't be stupid," Maurice scolded, grabbing another bite of the pancakes. "So. Tell me. What's the terms of this little deal?" 

"Ten grand a night," Barry breathed out, still in a bit of disbelief over the figure. He swatted at Maurice's hand, snatching a piece of pancake before he could eat it all. 

"Ten fuckin' grand!" Maurice exclaimed through a mouthful, pausing to swallow before cackling, "Holy fuck, kid. Nice work. Cold musta wanted that ass of yours pretty bad." 

Barry blushed, chuckling lightly, "Well, I am pretty irresistible, Maury." 

"I resist you just fine," Maurice snorted back, "Just be careful. Don't be gettin' all big headed and shit. Remember what this is." 

Barry frowned, scratching a hand through his hair. "I know, Maury." 

"Are ya' sure?" Maurice did not look convinced. "I know you, kid. You get your dick and your heart mixed up mighty quick. This ain't a love story, it's you trying to survive and doin' what you gotta do." 

"Yeah, yeah," Barry sighed, his eyes gazing down at the floor. He remembered the faint warmth of a hand on his arm, quickly chalking it up to a dream again. He couldn't help but feel strangely disappointed. "I know." 

"Don't forget it," Maurice warned through another bite of food. 

Barry gave a thumb's up, snagging one of the strawberries before Maurice could finish the plate off. 

"When you gonna see him again?" Maurice asked, smacking his lips as he ate. 

"Tonight," Barry said, unable to stop himself from grinning. "I'm gonna go get my rent settled up, try to look for a job-" 

"Cold just gave you a job," Maurice protested, battling Barry for the last piece of pancake. 

"Yeah, but ow, hey!" Barry shooed Maurice's fork away, getting a playful jab for his efforts, but still managed to triumphantly steal the last bite. "That money is just, like subtracted from what I owe him. He said that there might also be bonuses? Like if I do a really good job or something, but that gets taken from my debt, too. I think." " 

"Then what the fuck is that in your pocket?" 

"He said it was a tip," Barry replied, "But I can't count on that. I don't know if he's gonna be feeling that generous all the time." 

"Well, just make sure you do whatever you did last night, boom." 

Barry blushed, smiling shyly as he argued, "Come on, Maury, I need a real job. I'm not always gonna be whoring myself out to Boss Cold." 

"Fine," Maurice groaned, laughing cheerfully, "Look, there's a couple of places that might be willing to hire your skinny ass. There's a new restaurant, Ingrid's, they lookin' for a..." 

The store door opened, bell ringing loudly as someone walked in. Maurice's smile suddenly dropped, his eyes narrowed and glaring over Barry's shoulder as he spat, "What the fuck do you want?" 

Barry's stomach lurched to see such a hateful look on his friend's face, whirling around to see who it was that could have summoned such wrath. His breath got stuck in his throat, and he felt sick as soon as he saw him. 

Detective Joseph West. 

This was the kind man who had adopted him after his father went to prison for his mother's murder, the loving man who had tried to raise him as his son and take care of him. 

But he was also the very same cop who had arrested his father, testified against him at the trial, and kept Barry from seeing him. Their relationship had been rocky and finally broke when Barry turned eighteen. He had demanded to see his father, and Joe had again refused to let him. 

Barry ran away that night and never looked back. 

"Figured I would find you here," Joe said, offering a strained smile. "Maury keepin' you out of trouble, Barry?" 

"I'm keepin' him wherever the fuck he wants to be," Maurice snapped back, "And preferably as far away from you as fuckin' possible." 

"I'm here to talk to Barry, not you," Joe said sternly, turning a pleading gaze towards Barry. "You look good, son." 

Barry was stiff, unsure of the warring emotions tearing away inside him. He hadn't seen Joe in several years. He had tried to visit Barry a few times to make amends, but they always fell back into the same argument that tore them apart in the first place. 

Barry knew his father was innocent. 

Joe refused to believe him. 

It was how Barry first started falling into debt, trying to pay a lawyer to look at his father's case and get it reopened. Lawyers were expensive, and it didn't take long to rack up a huge bill. When he ran out of money, that's when he had started borrowing from Maurice and ended up with the huge mess he was in now. 

Of all the feelings Barry had racing through him, he settled on anger. He scowled, saying bitterly, "I'm not your son, Joe." 

"Barry-" Joe tried. 

"Why are you here?" Barry demanded, cutting him off. "What do you want?" 

"I just wanna talk to you," Joe said, holding out his hands as he approached slowly. 

"Oh, yeah?" Barry scoffed, his arms crossing defiantly over his chest. "About what? About how you left my father to rot in freakin' prison after you arrested him? How you kept me from seeing him for all those years, even when I cried? Even when I begged you?" 

Joe flinched, but didn't deny a word. 

Barry was feeling pretty confident. He'd slept with the most notorious crime boss in all of Central City, and he had over a thousand dollars in his pocket. He planted his hands on his hips, chin held high as he ranted on, "How about when it was his birthday, and you wouldn't even let me send him a card? Or when he had to have surgery because his appendix almost burst, do you remember that? He almost died in prison, and you still wouldn't let me go see him!" 

"Fuckin' scumbag," Maurice spat in support, giving Barry an approving nod. 

Joe took every jab with a regretful expression, letting Barry vent all he wanted. 

"Well?" Barry sneered, spurred on by his friend's encouragement, "What is it, Joe? What could we possibly have to freakin' talk about?" 

"About why you were in Leonard Snart's hotel room last night," Joe replied with a heavy sigh. 

Oh, crap. 

"I wasn't... that..." Barry stuttered, his face turning bright red immediately. He had always been a terrible liar, but especially to Joe. That stern glare made his insides turn to jelly, stumbling to find the right words. "Th-th-that's none of your beeswax." 

"As one of the lead investigators on a homicide case where Leonard Snart is the lead suspect, yeah, it is," Joe replied gravely. 

Homicide. 

Barry gulped. 

"How did you know I was there?" Barry accused, a new spark of anger giving him strength to bite back. "Are you having people follow me?" 

Joe scoffed, shaking his head as he sighed, "No, Barry. But I got plenty of people watching Snart." 

Barry huffed and retreated until his back hit the counter. He felt Maurice's hand clap on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. 

"Unless he's under arrest, he ain't got nothin' to say to you," Maurice snarled, "I think it's might strange you only came lookin' for Barry when you think he might be useful t'yous. How about you step off, Joe." 

"I don't know what kind of trouble this crook has gotten you into with Leonard Snart," Joe said, his eyes tearful as he jerked a finger at Maurice, "But I can help you, Barry. Whatever it is, just be honest with me, please." 

"Help me?" Barry scoffed in disbelief, "I asked you to help me get my Dad out. I asked you for access to the case files so I could look into it myself, I asked you... I asked you for money when I was hungry, and you..." He was starting to cry, angry and overwhelmed, snapping, "I don't need any help from you." 

"Barry," Joe said, taking another step forward, "Please. If you just answer a few questions, I can help you out-" 

"Oh!" Barry practically shouted, laughing bitterly. "There it is. There, that's why you came here. You don't want to help me, Joe. You wanna use me!" 

Joe's nostril flared, arguing, "That's not true. But whatever shit you've stepped in, you're gonna need to give a little if you want the police to protect your ass." 

"Protect me from what, Joe?" Barry demanded. 

"From Boss Cold when he finds out you've been talking to the cops," Joe said with a little shrug. 

"But I haven't been," Barry protested, eyes wide in shock, "I'm just talking to you..." Realization ran over him like a bucket of ice water, shivering as he bit the blood out of his lip to hold back a sob. "Oh, my God." 

"Oh, fuck you, Joe," Maurice raged, slamming his fist down so hard the plate rattled. "You wouldn't fuckin' dare put that on the streets, you fuckin' pig. What the fuck is wrong with you! Barry ain't no fuckin' snitch!" 

"Joe..." Barry's heart was shattered, deflating against the counter. 

"I will do whatever I have to if it means keeping you safe," Joe said softly, "Please. Just... think about it, okay. I don't want to force you-" 

"But, oh, if you think it's what best for me, you'll just go on and do it," Barry said bitterly, wiping at his eyes quickly. He stared down at the floor, hugging his arms around himself tightly. "Get the fuck out, Joe." 

"Barry, I have no idea what you were doing in that hotel with Snart, and frankly, I don't wanna know," Joe tried again, pleading, "But you've got no idea what you're getting yourself into, son. Now, please-" 

"I'm not your fucking son! I'm not your fucking anything!" Barry shouted, throwing his hands out in frustration. "Just, just get the fuck out, Joe!" 

Joe finally relented, taking a deep breath. Barry's words clearly hurt him, but he said nothing for a few moments as he tried to gather his thoughts. He nodded shortly, saying quietly, "If you change your mind, and I really hope you do, you know my number." 

"Yeah, well," Barry stuttered for a big finish as Joe walked away, yelling out after him, "Well, the fuckin' joke's on you 'cause I don't even have a phone! Ha!" 

Maurice cringed as the front door slammed, shaking his head. "Nice, kid. Not really, but you know, good try." 

Barry was shaking all over, turning around to grab Maurice from over the counter and hugging him tight. "Oh, ffffuck." 

Maurice gently patted Barry's back, soothing, "Hey, it's all right, kid. Forget about that prick." 

"Do you really think he would do that?" Barry asked nervously. "Do you think he'd tell people I was a snitch? There's nothing to even snitch! It's not like Cold is telling me all his nefarious, evil plans while we bang! Jesus, Maury. Cold is gonna have Mick Rory set me on fire. Mick will do it, he's crazy. He really likes to set things on fire!" 

"Calm down," Maurice chirped, cupping Barry's cheek. "That stupid pig is all fucking talk. He's a piece of shit, but even he ain't that much of a piece of shit, okay? Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Gonna give you wrinkles." 

Barry nodded weakly, trying to let Maurice reassure him. He really didn't feel that much better, but he smiled anyway. "Wrinkles, huh?" 

"Yeah," Maurice chuckled, "And we gotta keep you pretty lookin' for Boss Cold. Can't have you looking all scruffy and shit..." He gave Barry one last squeeze before letting him go, sighing, "Go home. Wash your ass. Handle your shit, kid." 

Barry ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. "Got it. Home. Wash ass. Will do." 

"And you know, just sayin'?" Maurice offered with a tiny smirk. "Maybe it really wouldn't be such a bad idea for you to get a phone?" 

"Let's see how broke I am after I buy food and pay my rent," Barry laughed, "If I do, trust me, you'll be the first one I call!" 

"I fuckin' better be. Get the fuck outta here," Maurice chuckled. "Big night tonight, right? Have fun, kid." 

"Fun, yup," Barry said with a blushing smile, giving Maurice one last hug before departing. He hurried home, anxiously bouncing in the backseat of the cab the whole way. 

Even though Joe had soured his morning, he refused to let it bother him. He was still going to see Boss Cold and do whatever he had to do to erase his debt. He knew in his heart that Joe probably did mean well, but it hurt all the same that his intentions were not entirely pure. 

They hadn't seen one another since their last fight when Joe was trying to get Barry to come home again. It had ended just as all the others had, screaming and in tears. It had been at least two or three years he figured, his brow furrowing up as he tried to recall the exact date. 

Whatever. It wasn't important. 

Tonight was important. He had to get himself ready for another exciting evening with Boss Cold, and fuck, he had officially run out of nice things to wear. He smirked to himself, blushing as he realized that if tonight was anything like last night then it really didn't matter what he wore. 

He was actually looking forward to being with Cold again, shuddering at the memory of what it felt like to have the mob boss inside of him, tearing him apart. He had never experienced anything like giving himself over to Leonard Snart's every desire, and he couldn't wait to do it again. He was still bouncing, full of nervous energy, smiling dopily as he gazed out the window. 

It was enough that the cab driver laughed, teasing, "What's up, slim? Hot date tonight?" 

Barry bowed his head, trying to hide a shy grin, replying quietly, "Yeeeeah. Something like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LOOK A PLOT. How did that get in there... Weird.
> 
> Holy smoley baskets of crap. You guys are all incredible. I am beyond humbled by the love and comments and kudos and all the awesome new people I'm meeting in this wonderful fandom. Seriously. I am freakin' floored. My heart is so full that it might explode and splatter little bits of heart goo everywhere. Thank you so very, very much. 
> 
> You may notice that the number of chapters has changed, and that's all thanks to you guys. 
> 
> I have a rough outline already written, and I'm pretty sure I'll stay on target with finishing this in eighteen chapters. I know I've managed to push out three in a few days, but I have to warn you that's highly unusual for me. I've gone and spoiled you all rotten. Normally, I only have enough time to write about one per week.
> 
> I'll try to post as often as I can, thank you in advance for your patience and all of your love. <333


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry has a fun evening with Boss Cold.

Rent taken care of and groceries purchased, Barry returned home with a smile on his face. He hadn't been this happy in a long time. Not to mention he had gotten laid last night, he recalled with a little smirk as he put the food away. He was still sore, stretching out his arms over his head, groaning softly as he felt and heard his shoulders popping lightly. He rubbed over his butt, wincing slightly. 

Wow. It had been... intense. 

He'd had no idea how he would respond to Cold telling him what to do, and being able to give himself over like that had been thrilling. Even now, thinking about that velvety voice made him shiver. 

Barry spent the rest of the day tidying up and dragging clothes downstairs to wash a few loads. He didn't have units in his apartment, but there were several coin operated ones in the basement. It was nice to have fresh, clean clothes again instead of washing them out in his bathtub. As he put the laundry away, he debated what to wear for his evening with Cold. He had washed his red shirt, but he didn't want to wear the same outfit twice. 

Barry doubted that Cold would care what he wore, eventually settling on jeans and a worn, faded t-shirt. He washed up the dish he had liberated from the hotel, humming lightly to himself. He was in such a good mood that he wasn't even going to let his confrontation with Joe from this morning ruin it. 

Barry briefly wondered if he should bring it up to Cold. Certainly the gangster knew the police were always watching him, but did he know about Barry's family? Did he know about Joe? Would he have agreed to the deal if he knew? 

Barry wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to anger Cold, and he certainly didn't want to do anything to upset their arrangement. 

Maurice had said that Joe wouldn't do something so mean, and he wanted to trust his friend. Maurice had been watching out for Barry ever since he ran away, and he decided not to worry about it. If anything got weird or hairy, good ol' Maury would let him know. 

Wait. How would he let him know. 

A phone, Barry groaned to himself. He picked back through the cash left over from Cold's tip, finding only a hundred and seventy eight dollars left. Oh, and two cents. He dragged the pennies around on his counter, pouting. Definitely not enough to purchase a phone, or pay the phone company what he owed to get his land line restored. 

Maybe tonight he could earn himself another big tip, he decided, pushing his worries to the back of his mind as he got ready to leave. 

A quick cab ride brought him back to the hotel, grinning shyly as he approached the front desk. He offered out the dish, explaining, "Look, so, I borrowed this, but... well, here." 

Barry dropped it off quickly, the clerk giving him a funny look but didn't question his odd return. He was practically skipping to the elevator, his body flush with excited energy. He wasn't as nervous as before, the dinging of the passing floors almost soothing as he ascended to his destination. He took a deep breath, stepping out on the executive floor with a bright smile on his face. 

The army of suited men was back again, Mick Rory front and center, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he looked at his watch. The giant grinned, laughing, "Look at you, Twig. Bein' all on time and shit again. Boss likes that." 

"Thanks?" Barry replied, trying not to stare too closely at Mick's neck. He had been too afraid to really look at him before, but now he could see curled, thick skin peeking out from above the edge of his collar. 

Burns. 

"Search time," Mick said, gesturing two of his fellows forward to give Barry a quick pat down. 

Barry obliged, certain that this was probably going to be part of his normal routine when visiting Boss Cold. 

All clear, Mick chuckled with a wink, "You go have some fun." 

"I plan to," Barry said with a blushing smile, hurrying to the door and using his key to let himself in. 

The door closed with a distinct click, and Barry let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. Here in this room, the rest of the world seemed to melt away into nothing. There was no rent, no bills, no lawyers, no Joe. 

It was only him and Boss Cold. 

Cold was at his desk just as before, but this time he looked up when Barry walked in. He peered over the rim of his glasses, wrinkling his nose up. "What are you wearing?" 

"Clothes...?" Barry said, blinking in surprise. The jeans seemed fine, though the t-shirt had a few holes. "I didn't think... since, well, you know... I'm not gonna be wearing them... for... very long." His face turned red, asking quietly, "It's not good?" 

Cold didn't answer, shaking his head and returning to his ledgers. 

Barry frowned, rocking back and forth on his heels. His stomach wobbled a little, wishing he had thought better of his fashion choices now. 

"Shower," Cold said, nodding towards the bathroom. 

Barry nodded, scurrying off to bathe. The shampoo and soap bottles had been replenished from the previous evening, and there was a new plush robe waiting for him. Once he was done, he wrapped himself in the robe and walked back out into the room. 

To his surprise, Cold wasn't at the desk. He had moved to the small sitting area in between the bathroom door and the bed, lounging back in a plush arm chair. He gestured for Barry to approach, pointing at the floor by his feet. "Kneel." 

Barry obeyed quickly, walking over dropping to his knees in front of Cold. He swallowed thickly, looking up at the mob boss expectantly. 

Cold leaned forward, not yet touching but gazing hungrily over Barry's robed body. He smirked, asking softly, "You'll really do whatever I want, won't you." 

"Isn't that what you want?" Barry replied uncertainly, his brows furrowing upwards. 

"Oh, I think it's what you want," Cold said, easily deflecting the question. "You're so very eager to please." He gently touched Barry's chin, his thumb sweeping over his bottom lip. "You'd let me fuck in front of the whole world, wouldn't you." 

Barry blushed, leaning into Cold's hand as much as he would allow. He could hear the steady thumping of his heart in his ears, drowning out the entire universe except the two of them. His stomach fluttered, gasping softly, "Yes..." 

"Mmm. And that's why we need a safe word, Mr. Allen," Cold said with a chuckle, his thumb pulling Barry's lip down, pinching it against his chin and making him whimper. "If we're going to make the most of this little deal, even my desires must have their limits." 

Barry frowned, confused. "But... you said whatever you want? That's... the deal?" 

"It wouldn't serve my interests to break you before you've paid off what you owe me," Cold clarified with a dark chuckle, "And I did so enjoy our time together last night... It was very revealing." He tilted his head, purring seductively, "You want someone to take charge, don't you?" 

Barry closed his eyes, nodding slowly. There was no point in denying it, whispering, "Yes." 

"You want someone to take away the fear," Cold continued, his drawl positively hypnotic, "For someone to eliminate all the hesitation, to stiffen that shy sway in your step. You don't want to worry any longer about what to say or what to do..." 

A surge of emotion rocked Barry's very soul from Cold's flawless perception, his tongue meeting his thumb as it moved over his bottom teeth and groaning softly. 

"Yes," Cold growled, his breath quickening as he spoke now. "You, Mr. Allen, need a purpose. You need that gratification that only comes from having someone to please." 

"Then let me please you," Barry sighed desperately, daring to suck at the pad of Cold's thumb, his eyes flicking open to stare up at him. 

Cold seemed happy with that, a gorgeous smirk twisting his lips. "Good," he said, a smile briefly lighting up his face then disappearing as quickly as it appeared. "Safe word, Mr. Allen?" 

"Ice," Barry replied softly, drawing out the word as a low hiss. It was an immediate response, lost in the beautiful icy blue of Cold's eyes. 

"Ice it is." Cold smirked, lightly tapping his thumb against Barry's chin. He leaned back in the chair, spreading his legs and slowly unbuttoning his pants, pulling out his thick cock. "Come along, Mr. Allen. Let's see how pleasing that mouth of yours is." 

Barry was salivating as he gazed over Cold's intimidating girth. His cock was absolutely beautiful. Crap, how was he ever supposed to fit all of that in his mouth. He scooted forward, starting to press a hand against Cold's thigh to get in a better position. 

Barry gasped when Cold snatched his wrist, saying low, "No touching." 

"But I need to... okay. Yes, sir," Barry nodded, blinking anxiously. He remembered how Cold had flinched in his apartment, frowning softly. How the hell was he going to do this if he couldn't use his hands. He let his arms drop to his sides, taking a deep breath. 

Barry bowed his head down and pulled the tip of Cold's cock into his mouth with only his lips. The taste was hot and a little salty, groaning as he sucked softly. He struggled to take the thick member deeper, his eyes starting to tear up. 

Barry's lips felt like they were being stretched to their limit, trying to use his tongue to make up for all the inches he couldn't fit by swirling around the tip. He wanted to use his hand to grab the remainder of Cold's cock, but didn't want to risk angering him by touching him again. 

Colds fingers suddenly dug into Barry's hair, setting his scalp ablaze with pain and sensation. His hold was firm, his cock starting to move, his voice rumbling, "Open your mouth. As wide as you can." 

Barry sighed, letting his jaw hang loose. He inhaled sharply through his nose as Cold started thrusting his cock up into his throat. He gagged instantly, trying to swallow around the thick intrusion and his mouth was rapidly filling with saliva. 

"Relax," Cold soothed, his cock sliding deep down Barry's throat. 

Barry tried, God, did he try. It was almost impossible not to gag again, whining softly as Cold's massive girth filled up his mouth. He was keenly aware of all the drool dripping out of his mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks as Cold fucked his face. He was getting more turned on with every slam, blood rushing down into his loins and shivering all over. 

He loved Cold being in control. His mind was completely empty except for the sole focus he had of pleasing this man. It was soothing in spite of the discomfort, calming in a way Barry had never known before. He didn't have to think or worry, he only had to obey. 

It felt so fuckin' good. 

Cold's fingers were tangled tight in his hair, forcing himself deeper as he bucked his hips up. Barry was struggling, but he started to get the hang out of it. He swallowed back around the head of Cold's cock, flexing his cheeks and lips to maintain some suction. He started moving his tongue, wagging back and forth on the underside of Cold's shaft. 

Barry could hear Cold's breathing becoming a shallow pant, the quietest little groan managing to escape. Yes, that sound, that beautiful sound. He wanted to hear how good it felt, he wanted to know what a good job he was doing. He whined quietly, giving everything he had, trying to make Cold moan again. 

"Look at me," Cold ordered, his voice raw and husky with need. 

Barry's eyes flickered upwards to meet Cold's gaze, unable to identify the intense expression on his face. He looked like he was concentrating, as if trying to figure out a puzzle, but there was an element of frustration like the solution was eluding him. 

"You love this, don't you?" Cold demanded, yanking Barry off his cock so he could answer him. 

Barry gasped for air, his chest heaving as he licked his lips to catch some of the drool. He couldn't nod because of how tightly Cold was holding him by his hair. He inhaled a few more precious gulps of oxygen before he was able to reply, whimpering, "I do..." 

"Mmmm, good boy," Cold sighed, rubbing the head of his cock over Barry's lips. 

Barry caught himself chasing it, his tongue darting out trying to get one more taste. He couldn't explain the feeling of happiness that washed over him when Cold said he was a good boy, but nothing else in his entire life could compare. He whined, managing to get one quick lick before Cold pulled him out of range. 

"Easy," Cold soothed, his tight grip finally releasing and softly petting through Barry's ruffled hair. He wiped the drool away from his mouth, even his tears, fingers moving with a tenderness Barry hadn't thought the gangster capable of. 

Barry beamed up at him, trying to lean into Cold's hand. To his surprise, Cold cradled the side of his face, thumb drawing little circles over his cheek. "Good?" 

"Very," Cold sighed, letting go all too soon and grabbing the condom from the table next to them. He rolled it down over his cock, patting his lap. "Come on." 

Barry eagerly complied, slipping off his robe and being mindful to only use the arms of the chair to pull himself up. He straddled Cold's hips, shivering when he felt his cock pressing against his ass. He couldn't wait for it to be inside of him again. He was already reaching for the lube when Cold grabbed his wrist, pinning his hand behind him. 

"Uh uh," Cold chastised, shaking his head. "You've got to learn to slow down, Mr. Allen... I didn't tell you to do that, now did I?" 

"No, sir," Barry said, pouting. He cried out when Cold slapped his tender ass, his hips jerking forward. "Fuck!" 

"Put both of your hands behind your back," Cold instructed, reaching for the lubricant as he calmly waited for Barry to comply. 

Barry held his hands as ordered, loosely holding his wrist. He cried out when Cold spanked him again, teetering unsteadily in his lap. He didn't dare move his arms, squeezing his legs to keep himself balanced. 

He groaned when one of Cold's hands slid up and pressed into the small of his back, holding him tight so he wouldn't fall over. Lubed fingers were now circling around his hole, plunging inside with purpose and making Barry whimper. 

Barry's head tipped to the side, glad for Cold's strong hand to keep him in place, arching his hips against the probing fingers inside him. "God..." 

Cold made a small sound, almost a grunt, lewdly stretching out Barry's hole and making him whimper. He withdrew, snatching the condom and rolling it on quickly. "Hands stay," Cold reminded quickly, lifting Barry's hips and lining himself up. 

"Yes, si- _eerrr!_ Fuck!" Barry yelled when Cold thrust his cock in, forcing him to take every inch in one deep slam. Barry squirmed, gasping from the sting, tears again starting to flow as his fingers dug into his palm. 

Cold was savage, taking Barry apart with brutal slams. He held his hips tightly, his teeth bared in a snarl as he fucked him. It went on and on without any signs of stopping, Cold's hips pivoting like a machine. 

Barry could only scream and pant, his hips struggling to move in any way that could offer a reprieve. Cold wouldn't let him, forcing him to stay as he was, grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing the bruised flesh. 

Barry hissed in surprise and pain, his cock achingly hard as it bobbed between them. He wailed as Cold suddenly spanked him again, sobbing loudly. Cold was fucking him so hard he thought his body was going to tear. It was overwhelming, it fucking hurt, and he didn't know how much more he could handle. 

Too much, it was too fucking much. Barry squeezed his eyes closed, the safe word right on the tip of his tongue. 

"You're doing so well, Mr. Allen," Cold growled, his teeth clenched together and gasping, "You're taking my cock so fucking beautifully." 

The praise tipped Barry back from falling into the abyss, groaning as he started to rock his hips down with renewed vigor. He could do this. He was making Cold happy. He wanted to make him feel good. He moved his hips in sync with Cold's, dropping himself down to meet every cruel thrust, groaning shamelessly. 

It was starting to feel fantastic, the pain blanched by a wave of bliss, Barry's head falling back as he cried. Cold seemed to appreciate his efforts, not correcting him for being such an active participant. 

In fact, the snap of his body had stopped almost completely, letting Barry take over. Not being able use his arms, he focused on the muscles of his stomach and his lower back, rolling his body over and over as he fucked Boss Cold. 

Cold had the oddest look on his face, something akin to surprise, watching Barry intently as he rode him. Barry didn't understand why Cold was stopping when it was starting to finally feel so good. 

Barry groaned, his hips frantically slamming down on Cold's cock, trying to get him going again. "Please, sir... I need more..." 

"You'll take what I give you," Cold warned, popping his ass viciously. 

"Fuck! Please!" Barry pleaded, teetering slightly. Another hard spank threw him completely off balance and instinctively his arms flew forward to catch him himself. One caught the arm of the chair, the other landed on Cold's chest. 

Barry's eyes nearly popped out of his head, freezing in place. Oh, God, he had touched him again. He wasn't supposed to touch him. His palm was right over Cold's heart, and he could feel the rapid thumping of his pulse beneath. 

Cold's hand snatched Barry's wrist, but he didn't push him away this time. He squeezed down tight, their eyes meeting, and Barry wished he could place the beautiful look in the other man's eyes. It was intense, haunting, and... sad. 

Barry kept his hand where it was, too stunned to move. 

Cold's grip softened, his thumb lightly tracing the underside of Barry's wrist. His lips parted, but he didn't speak. He looked lost for a few seconds, his expression starting to harden again even though his touch remained gentle. His fingers slid up Barry's arm, over his elbow and bicep. He was taking his time, cataloging every inch of flesh from Barry's shoulder up to the back of his neck, resting there. 

Barry gasped quietly, melting under Cold's affections. He lightly tugged on his sweater, slowly starting to move his body once more. He needed friction desperately. He gasped again as Cold suddenly sat up straight, holding Barry tightly around his waist and began to move with him. 

Their bodies were perfectly matched in movement, sliding together effortlessly. Cold's cock was thrusting impossibly deeper, Barry whimpering sweetly. Their chests were bumping together, his cock trapped in between their stomachs, and Barry wanted to kiss him so terribly. 

Something was different now, the energy crackling around them had changed. Barry couldn't explain it, but it was somehow more intimate. This was a part of Cold he wasn't supposed to see. He kept staring at his beautiful lips, dying for a taste. 

Barry couldn't help himself, leaning forward, eagerly trying to steal a kiss. 

Cold's fingers immediately snatched Barry's head off to the side by his hair, growling softly in warning. 

Barry yelped, whining in protest. Well, that was a stupid idea. The intimate moment was lost, but God, it had been so beautiful while it lasted. He wailed when suddenly Cold's teeth were clamping down on his throat, his cock starting to ruthlessly slam inside him again. 

"Touch yourself," Cold panted against Barry's neck, growling as he fucked him hard. "Come for me, Mr. Allen." 

Barry nodded, gasping and crying as he wedged his hand between them to grab his cock. He groaned as Cold's hips stuttered beneath him, realizing that he was coming. A few strokes of Barry's hand sent him tumbling into bliss right after him. 

Cold rocked their bodies together as they both trembled, allowing himself one low moan of pleasure as he finally finished. 

Barry smiled at the lovely sound, pleased with himself, and God, exhausted. His thighs were burning and so was his ass, deflating in Cold's arms. He wanted to cuddle, to touch, but he knew that his hand still currently tangled in the fabric of his sweater was already pushing it. 

Cold began to sink back into the chair, exhaling sharply as he pulled away. He didn't seem to mind the mess all over his sweater, waving Barry away as he sighed, "Go... get cleaned up." 

Barry obeyed, climbing off Cold's lap with wobbly legs as he headed to the bathroom. 

He stretched his aching body, humming contently as he turned the shower on. He happened to glance at himself in the mirror, surprised at how happy he looked. 

His face and chest were blotchy, his ass was bright red and he could make out a definite handprint or two. His hair was a ruffled mess, and he was shiny all over with sweat. Definitely looked like he'd just gotten righteously fucked. 

But, God, he couldn't stop smiling. He was so happy. 

He did make a bit of a face when he saw the giant bite mark Cold had left on his neck. For fuck's sake. 

He watched his cheeks blush a little deeper in his reflection when he realized he liked seeing it there. He liked the idea of Cold marking him all up, leaving bruises and bites over every inch of him. He shivered as he hopped in the shower, singing softly to himself. 

The night was still young; maybe if he was lucky, Cold would do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my freakin' Gosh. Thank you so much for all of the love! 
> 
> There might be some more plot in the next chapter. Well, and some smut. But maybe some plot. Plot smut. Plut? Smot? Whatever. <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a small misunderstanding, Barry tries to tell Cold the truth about Joe but finds himself a bit distracted.

Barry sang quietly as he showered, his body filled with a lovely warmth and thoroughly satisfied. Cold had finally let Barry touch him. He had never had sex that felt half as good as those precious moments they had shared together. Thinking about Cold's beautiful fingers sliding up his arm made him shudder, retracing the pattern with his own hand up to his neck where Cold had held him. 

Being denied the kiss had stung, but feeling the ratcheting throb of Cold's heart underneath his fingers was an experience he would never forget. The ferocious way Cold had moved, the roll of his hips as he worked Barry's lean body over with that massive cock... Mmmph. 

Barry still would have rather had his fingers clawing up Cold's bare back instead of being tangled in his sweater, but it was definite progress nonetheless. He didn't dare ask what Cold's hangup was about being touched, but he did wonder if they would ever kiss. It was strange to have sex with someone and never have even kissed them. 

It was backwards. Kissing came before sex. Kissing was the very first thing on the list! 

Then again, Barry thought to himself with a frown, those sorts of rules only applied to dating. 

He and Cold were not dating. This was a business arrangement, albeit an enjoyable one. He was here to do whatever Cold wanted. If Cold didn't want to kiss him, that was his decision, and Barry didn't have any right to be upset by it. 

Still, he was disappointed. Cold's lips looked absolutely delicious. 

Barry pushed his thoughts back on a happier track. That beautiful way Cold had looked at him had taken his breath away, the way his hand felt so hot against his skin made him tremble down in his bones... 

Barry was already half hard again, grinning shyly to himself. He didn't know about Cold, but he was definitely ready for another go. 

Washed and refreshed, Barry exited the bathroom wearing only a smile. He had left the robe on the floor by the chair, and he was only expecting to find Cold when he came out. 

Oh, he was wrong. 

There was a brunette woman perched on the edge of Cold's desk, long nails stroking through his short hair as they chatted. She was wearing a slinky halter top and long, flowing gaucho pants, swinging feet clad in stiletto heels. She was gorgeous. 

Cold had changed his sweater and was actually smiling, pure and bright like Barry had never seen before. 

A jolt of envy struck Barry, and he realized his face was getting hot. He was too angry to even care that he was naked, staring at the woman with a sour expression. 

Who was that, and why was she touching Cold. 

Wait, better question, Barry's brain shifted gears as his jealousy turned to angst. 

Why was Cold allowing it? 

The woman turned, her painted lips curling into a familiar looking smirk as she gazed appraisingly over Barry's bare lean body. "Oh, Lenny," she purred, "He is just darling." 

_Lenny?!_

Barry finally had enough sense to blush, stumbling as he fetched his robe. 

"Get your own," Cold drawled with an affectionate roll of his eyes, "That one is mine." 

Barry's face grew even hotter, unable to help a tiny smile as he quickly wrapped his robe around himself. His, Cold had said. He was Cold's. 

Not his boyfriend, not his partner, but his... well, his something. 

The woman pouted, her eyes intently following Barry as he covered up. She stuck out her lower lip at Cold, asking, "Are you sure I couldn't borrow him?" 

"Very sure." Cold's smile had vanished, now replaced by his usual smirk. 

"What's your name, sweetie?" the woman asked, gracefully sliding off the desk to approach him. 

"Barry, Barry Allen," he replied, a little nervous now. The woman was friendly, but there was something about the way her eyes followed him. It was downright predatory, just like Cold's own ravenous gaze. 

"I'm Lisa Snart," she purred, extending her hand towards him, palm down. 

Barry did his best not to scowl when he heard her last name. He didn't realize the gangster was married, though she didn't seem bothered at all by his presence. It was very obvious what he and Cold had been doing, and Cold was purportedly gay. 

Perhaps it was an arranged marriage, something politically motivated? Barry didn't know all the ins and outs of the mob, but he figured people married all the time to keep the peace and strengthen alliances between families. That's what happened on television anyway. 

Barry forced a polite smile, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss upon it. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Snart." 

"Mrs...? Oh! How cute!" Lisa squealed happily. She smirked, giving Barry a knowing look as she teased, "Aw, look at you. Somebody is jealous!" 

Barry's flush was spreading down his neck rapidly. He hadn't thought his displeasure was that obvious. 

"It's _Miss_ Snart, Barry," Lisa explained, giggling softly. "Don't you worry, I'm his sister. Besides, Lenny hasn't touched a vagina since he popped out of his mother's." 

Barry stuttered for an appropriate response, but nothing would come out. Apparently he had been watching too many movies. He was such an idiot. He tried not to look as relieved as he felt. 

"Thank you for sharing," Cold drawled, stacking up the ledgers on the desk in neat little piles. 

Lisa beamed sweetly at Barry, winking slyly. The Snart siblings had the same icy blue eyes, though Lisa's gaze was not as harsh as her brother's. Still hungry, yes, but kinder. 

Her very presence felt warmer, easy and relaxed, a stark contrast from her stoic sibling. Oh, but the smirk. The smirk was identical, and Barry felt foolish for not seeing the resemblance sooner. 

When Lisa turned towards the desk, Barry caught himself staring at her exposed back. There were scars all over her skin. Dozens of them, long and thick, criss-crossing across her back like a corset woven from terrible pain. 

Barry clicked his teeth together to shut his mouth when he realized he was gawking. He had never seen anyone with such terrible scars before, and he was not about to even hazard a guess as to their origin. 

Whatever it was, it couldn't be anything good. 

"Oh, just trying to help out my big brother." Lisa popped back on the edge of the desk, grinning at Cold. Her eyes suddenly widened, gasping, "You should bring Barry!" 

Oh, God. Bring Barry where. 

"No," Cold said quietly, laying his briefcase on the desk and packing the ledgers away. 

Lisa didn't acknowledge his answer, continuing excitedly, "He would be perfect!" She smiled at Barry, asking innocently, "Do you own a nice suit, Barry?" 

Barry fidgeted, a little embarrassed that he didn't. He opened his mouth to squeak out a response, but Cold was already answering for him, "No, he doesn't." 

"I could take him shopping!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Mmmm, are you free tomorrow, Barry?" 

"Yes, he is," Cold answered again, "A perk of being unemployed. And no, you're not taking him shopping because he's not going to the party." 

"Oh, shush, of course he is," Lisa insisted, not paying her sibling any mind. "Just imagine how darling he will look on your arm once I'm done fixing him up." 

Barry dropped down on the bed, watching them argue anxiously. Spending the night in a hotel room was one thing, but going to a party created a new nasty web of potential problems. 

Barry knew that Joe had people watching Cold now. If he was seen out and about in public with the gangster, there was a very good chance that Joe may start to get ideas about their relationship. He might try to come after him again to get information on Cold. 

Maury had insisted that Joe wouldn't actually meddle in any way that could put Barry in danger, but he was suddenly afraid. Even if Joe didn't say anything, Cold might still think he was a rat if he found out that his adoptive father was a cop. 

A cop who was presently investigating the gangster for murder. 

Oh, this wasn't good. 

"I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon," Lisa said, stubbornly ignoring the scowling look on her brother's face as she spoke to Barry. 

"I'll think about it," Cold said after a long pause. 

Lisa grinned as if he had just agreed, happily kissing his cheek as she slinked off the desk. She took the briefcase, twiddling her fingers at Barry in a little wave. "I'll see you tomorrow, cutie," she purred, "You fellas have fun!" 

Cold looked irritated, grimacing slightly as his sister pranced away. He waited until the door shut, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. His long fingers massaged his temples, his eyes closing slowly. 

Barry was anxious, his foot bouncing on the floor as he watched Cold. He wasn't sure what to do since he hadn't been given any orders, waiting as patiently as he could with worry chewing on his gut. 

Barry had to say something. He had to tell Cold before anyone else did and this all blew up in his face. 

"Cold, sir," Barry began quietly, "There's something... I think I need to tell you." 

"What is it about?" Cold raised a brow, not sounding particularly interested. 

"Well, about my family," Barry replied, fidgeting anxiously. 

"Something... personal?" Cold asked, his eyes slowly opening. He studied Barry thoughtfully, rising from the desk and approaching the bed. 

"Yes," Barry said, swallowing thickly. 

Cold hummed quietly, shooing Barry to the other side of the bed so he could sit down. He pressed his back against the center of the headboard, stretching out his long legs. 

Barry licked his lips, his heart in his throat. He had to do this, he had to tell Cold the truth. "Sir?" 

Cold snorted softly and patted his thigh, Barry crawling over obediently. He started to straddle Cold's hips, thinking he was going to ride him again, but Cold corrected him with a firm squeeze on his arm. He jerked his head, directing Barry to turn the other way. 

Barry whined softly, twisting around until his ass bumped against Cold's stomach, his knees settling on the outside of his thighs. He wanted to lean back and press up against Cold's chest, desperate for contact, but Cold was pushing him forward. 

Barry dropped onto his elbows, whimpering as Cold's hands slid up his legs underneath his robe. He closed his eyes, his body eager to submit, but he couldn't stop that little voice screaming inside his head. 

Barry felt like he was going to burst if he didn't get this out, trying again, "Sir, I really need to tell you who-" 

"I don't care," Cold said flatly. His nimble fingers moved over Barry's hips, his ass, pushing the robe up and out of his way. 

"But, sir, I think you need to... oh, fuck," Barry whined, his toes curling when Cold's fingers lightly danced over his hole. He heard the click of a bottle of lube being opened, his cock twitching in anticipation. 

"I think you need to be quiet," Cold said, more interested in spreading Barry's cheeks and probing at his tender hole with slick fingers. "Not another word, not a sound, unless I ask you a question. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, sir," Barry replied, taking a deep breath. The urge to obey was greater than the need to tell Cold the truth about his family, his worries easing away as he listened to that beautiful voice. 

"Oh? Do you really? Let's see," Cold taunted, his voice low and positively wicked. His fingers suddenly plunged inside Barry's hole, chuckling softly. 

Barry bit his tongue trying not to cry out, breathing in and out of his nose frantically. 

Cold's fingers were methodical, and fuck, how were they so long, dipping slowly in and twisting just right to make Barry want to scream. 

Barry bit down on his fist, panting hard as he did his absolute best to remain perfectly silent. 

"How would you feel about a small amendment to our deal?" Cold asked, completely calm. They might as well have been chatting over cards, never mind that Cold was currently knuckle deep inside of Barry's ass. 

"W-what kinda amendment?" Barry hissed through gritted teeth. 

"I want to add an option to extend your services outside of my bed," Cold replied. "Would you be interested?" 

"You mean the party Lisa was talking about? Oh, fu-uuuck!" Barry squealed as Cold's fingers twirled and made his legs shake. He could feel intense pressure against his prostate, and God, he couldn't help but let a small whimper creep out. 

"Yes," Cold answered quietly, pressing harder and Barry held his breath so he wouldn't scream. "Usual rate, ten thousand dollars for the entire evening? Additionally, I will acquiesce to my sister's demands, and I will cover your wardrobe." 

Barry sighed in relief as Cold slowly withdrew his fingers, nodding his head. "I'll go. What... What would I need to do?" 

"Exactly what I want you to do," Cold replied dryly, his hands resting on Barry's cheeks and squeezing softly. "Be quiet, stay close and look pretty." 

Barry could sense warmth near his sensitive hole, his eyes wide with need and trying desperately not to make another peep. Cold's hands were guiding him backwards and his mouth was right there at his ass, literally a breath away from touching him. 

"So," Cold said quietly, his lips brushing ever so slightly against Barry's flesh, "We have a deal?" 

"Ye- _esssss!_ Oh, God!" Barry moaned, Cold's tongue suddenly pressing into him, his head dropping down on the mattress. Cold's tongue was inside of him, moving just as nimbly as his fingers, pushing deep and with great skill, sucking softly at the edge of his rim. 

Barry clawed at the sheets, pushing back against Cold's mouth, mewling pitifully. He knew he was supposed to be quiet, but how could he with Cold's tongue fucking him like that? 

He'd had rim jobs before, but no one had ever ate him out like this. Cold's tongue kept pressing in impossibly deeper, growling softly as his teeth lightly nipped at Barry's tender skin. 

It was that flash of teeth that finally made Barry cry out, the brief sting of pain mixing so beautifully with the pleasure. He was shaking all over by the time Cold was pulling away, his velvety voice taunting, "And you were doing so well..." 

"Please, sir," Barry pleaded, trying to arch his hips back towards Cold's beautiful mouth, sobbing quietly. "Please don't stop." 

"Aw, but I told you to be quiet," Cold purred nastily. Barry could hear him licking his lips and the end table drawer opening. "You think you deserve a treat when you've been bad?" 

"No, sir." Barry shivered. The disappointment washing over him was overwhelming. He wanted more of Cold's tongue, more of his anything, though he knew he didn't deserve it for disobeying him. He whined, pleading quietly, "I'll be good, please." 

"Sit up," Cold said patiently, strong arms helping Barry lean back and peel off his robe. "Open your mouth." 

Barry obeyed and blinked at the sudden taste of latex, a rubber ball resting between his teeth. It felt unnatural and strange, thick straps lightly scratching his cheeks as Cold buckled it into place. 

A gag. Cold had gagged him. Barry's tongue slipped around the ball, taking in the new taste. It was a little weird, but the leather felt good. It was soothing, and he was oddly calm in spite of how aroused he was. 

Now he could be a good boy, he could be quiet like Cold wanted him to be. He didn't have to fight so hard, he could enjoy himself, and do exactly what Cold wanted. 

"There," Cold sighed, very pleased, "Much better." 

Barry whimpered experimentally, the sound promptly muffled. 

"Lovely," Cold praised, reaching up and grabbing a handful of Barry's hair. He pulled him back against his chest, lips brushing over his ear as he said quietly, "Thumbs up for yes, thumbs down for no or if you want me to stop at any point. Do you understand?" 

Thumbs up, without hesitation. 

"Good," Cold purred, quick hands getting himself ready, "Because I can't wait to hear you try to scream." 

Barry was perfectly pliant, gasping as Cold's thick cock began to push inside his slick hole. He moaned loudly, the gag stifling the sound but not completely. Cold's fingers dug into his hips, grunting as he quickly set a brutal pace. He was rough, forcing Barry to bounce up and down on his cock. 

Barry submitted, giving himself over to every demand that Cold's cock made of his body. His cries of pleasure were somewhat muted by the gag, but Barry began to suspect that Cold was enjoying how he sounded like this. The louder he tried to cry out, the harder Cold fucked him. 

Barry started drooling profusely, whining shamefully at the mess he was making of himself. He tried to swallow as much of it as he could, but soon it was dripping down his chin and onto his chest. He tried tilting his head back, trying to use gravity to his advantage, gulping awkwardly between groans. 

One of Cold's hands suddenly curled around the front of Barry's neck for a few slams, his fingers sliding down over his chest and finding the slick spill of saliva. Cold gasped, tracing the drool up to where the gag sat in Barry's mouth, and he let out a beautiful moan. 

Barry's eyes closed, lost in bliss at the gorgeous sound, his head falling back against Cold's shoulder. Before he could even think about what a terrible mistake he had made, Cold's hand had splayed over his throat again. 

Barry gasped, his body stiffening up. Ah, crap. He tensed, expecting a swift punishment. 

But Cold didn't try to move him or reprimand him. He was actually holding Barry firmly in place, his hand squeezing his neck softly as he growled in his ear, "Still good?" 

Barry gave a quick thumb's up, crying out as Cold became even more ferocious. He started bucking his hips rapidly, drawing his knees up for leverage as he tore Barry apart. His labored panting made Barry shiver all over, his thighs on fire as he struggled to keep up with him. 

He was certain that this was as close to heaven as he would ever know, every bit of his body and soul offered up for Cold to devour. 

Cold took it all, every muffled cry and drop of spit, allowing their bodies to press closer than they had ever before. Even through the sweater, Barry could feel the heat of Cold's body against his back. 

Cold's fingers slid from Barry's neck to his mouth, teasing over his lips and swirling in the drool that had collected on his chin. His touch was positively reverent as he moved over the bottom of the ball where his teeth met the rubber. Cold's breathing and growling was reaching a feverish pace, Barry knowing it meant his end was near. 

Barry whimpered desperately, trying to turn his head towards Cold, his eyes pleading with him for release. He wanted to come so badly it hurt, but not without permission, not yet. 

"Go on", Cold snarled quietly, his hand clasping back around Barry's throat, "Use all that pretty spit. Get your hand good and wet, and then touch yourself." 

Barry groaned, nodding obediently, his hand quickly wiping the drool up that had collected on his chest, grabbing his cock and frantically jerking himself off. It was sticky and dirty and Barry moaned shamelessly as the pressure became overwhelming. 

Barry gave Cold everything he had, slamming his body down to bring them both over the edge. Barry's hips bucked hard, going for broke, Cold's hand tightening down on Barry's throat as they writhed together in bliss. 

Ecstasy exploded right before Barry's eyes like a barrage of fireworks as he came, sobbing and choking on his own tears. His body finally gave out, exhausted and collapsing against Cold. He was dizzy, mewling softly as Cold gave a few more slams to finish himself off. 

Cold grunted low, a deeply satisfied sound, his lips brushing against Barry's ear as his hand slowly withdrew. He carefully removed the gag and gently petted Barry's face where the straps had been, purring, "Excellent work, Mr. Allen..." 

Barry gasped for air, smiling bright and preening at the sweet praise. He was limp as a rag doll, letting Cold carefully lay him down against the sheets. He was totally worn out, and his heart felt incredibly full. 

Cold moved from the bed, disposing of the condom and fixing his pants up quickly. He tidied up the wrapper and lube, putting the gag back in the drawer. Wordlessly, he headed towards the bathroom, the door shutting tight. 

Barry stretched out his long body, moaning loudly to himself in pure satisfaction. He was a sticky mess, his body throbbing from being used so roughly, and he felt absolutely fantastic. He didn't want to ever move from this bed. He remained splayed out on his back until Cold returned. 

Cold sat down on the edge of the mattress, a washcloth in his hand. 

Barry was expecting to take it and clean himself up, but to his surprise Cold started wiping him down. The washcloth was wet, but warm, and Barry practically moaned from the attention. Cold touched every inch of him, meticulous and thorough, making sure to erase every trace of bodily fluids. 

When Cold seemed satisfied that Barry was clean, he briefly touched his hair, murmuring, "I'd dare say you've earned yourself a little bonus tonight, Mr. Allen." 

"Thank you, sir," Barry sighed contently. He had never felt so proud of himself before, happy that he had done such a great job. 

Cold smiled at him, brief but uncharacteristically happy, enough to make Barry's stomach flutter. It only lasted a moment before Cold was rising up again and returning to the bathroom. The door shut, and Barry heard the lock engage. 

Barry pulled the sheets up over himself, wiggling his jaw to ease some of the tension out. It was sore from being forced open for so long, but he couldn't stop smiling. 

The sex had been absolutely incredible; the rimming, the gag, and especially Cold allowing him to be so close. 

The tender way Cold had tended to him afterwards made Barry's very soul ache. He wanted to please Cold even more than ever, desperate to do anything asked of him just to get that kind of attention again. He could hear the shower starting, wishing he could be in there with Cold to help wash him. 

God, it drove him crazy he still had no idea what he looked like naked. 

His imagination ran away from him, fantasizing about a flawless chiseled chest and moist, dripping abdominals. He was too damn tired to stay awake and hopefully catch a peek, see if the real thing could compare to his fantasy. He wiggled around the bed, getting comfortable, and his eyes were already starting to close. 

Despite his brain being the consistency of pudding from an evening of intense stimulation, he knew he had to talk to Cold about Joe before it was too late. 

Tomorrow. 

He would talk to him about it tomorrow before the party. 

Barry felt a longing deep inside of him, and he realized that he didn't want to lose the arrangement he had with Cold. It was about the money, he told himself, he had to make sure he paid off his debt and ensure that Mick didn't set him on fire. He wanted to be able to buy groceries, get his fucking life together, and finally get his father out of prison. 

His last waking thoughts were of icy blue eyes and a wicked smirk. No matter how hard he tried, he knew in his heart that it wasn't about the money. 

Not any more. 

Barry passed out, not waking again until there was a familiar frantic knock at the door at a quarter after nine. He mumbled sleepily, flailing around as he retrieved his robe. Cold was long gone, and Barry couldn't say whether or not he had actually slept next to him last night. He had slept so soundly that a bomb going off probably wouldn't have woken him. 

He lumbered to the door and glanced through the peephole, seeing Lola's frantic face. 

Late again. 

Barry grinned, letting her in with the giant cart of food, already soothing, "Hey, it's okay, don't worry about it-" 

"Please tell Mr. Winters I am so sorry!" Lola was crying as she struggled to get the tray set up and setting a domed dish on top. "The kitchen, it's just so much-" 

"Really! It's not a big deal! It's all good!" Barry assured her, smiling brightly. "I promise, it's fine. As far as I know? Hey, you were here at nine o'clock." 

"Thank you, Barry," Lola sighed, obviously relieved. She pressed her hands together, fidgeting anxiously as she asked, "Is it... if it was a smaller order, it might not be so difficult... to make it here on time." 

Barry nodded, his head tilting curiously. "Does, uh, Mr. Winters always order this much food?" 

"No, sir," Lola replied, shaking her head, "Yesterday was the first time he's ever ordered any room service other than drinks." 

"I'll talk to him," Barry promised, smiling warmly. 

Lola patted Barry's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you so very much," she said, "I appreciate that. Oh! And read your note, don't forget to read the note first." 

"I will! Thank you, Lola!" Barry waved farewell, waiting for her to leave before lifting to the dome. Like yesterday, there was another card waiting for him to read. Barry grinned, happily plopping down in bed to read it. 

_$237,007.19_

_Lisa will come by your apartment at four o'clock. Be ready._

_LS_

Barry's stomach churned in a mix of excitement and dread as he ate his breakfast. Somewhere between shopping with Boss Cold's baby sister and attending a party with him, he had to find time to talk to him about Joe West. 

Barry didn't know what Cold was going to do when he told him, but if there was any chance of their deal moving forward, he had to tell him the truth. 

Today was gonna be interesting, to say the least. 

Barry counted the days off in his head, suddenly grinning wide when he realized what day it was. Today was Friday, and he actually had enough cash to grab a taxi down to Iron Heights Prison. 

They had visiting hours from ten o'clock to two, and Barry already knew what he was going to do first. 

He was going to go see his father. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! The smut fairy visited again! Next chapter will be angsty fluff, and theeeeennn it's party time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry visits his father in prison and then enjoys some quality time with Lisa.

Henry Allen had been arrested seventeen years ago for the murder of his wife, Nora Allen. 

The neighbors had heard sounds of a scuffle and screaming, quickly calling the police. Henry was found standing over her body with a knife in his hand when authorities arrived. He insisted that he had come home late and found his wife already dead on the floor. He had picked up the knife only after checking for vitals and realizing she was beyond resuscitation. 

Even after all of these years, Barry could still remember Henry screaming his innocence as Joe dragged him away in handcuffs. Barry had tried grabbing his father's leg, pleading with Joe and begging for him not to take his dad away. He had just lost his mom, and he didn't want to lose his dad, too. Barry got so hysterical that Joe had another officer remove him and place him in the back of a squad car until he calmed down. 

He had to watch as Joe hauled his father off, all of their neighbors watching and pointing, completely helpless to do anything to stop it. He kept trying to tell the cops that he had seen what happened, he knew that his father didn't do it. He knew exactly who had killed his mother, and it wasn't Henry. 

It was the Man in Yellow, he had screamed, the Man in Yellow had done this. 

But no one, not even Joe, believed him. He was only a child, he was obviously confused and traumatized. 

There was no evidence of any one else in the house, and no one had been seen entering or exiting. With no other suspects, the trial had been swift, and the sentence was life in Iron Heights Prison. 

Barry didn't see his father again until he was eleven. It was the first of many times he would run away from Joe's house, having stolen cash from his wallet to get a taxi down to the prison. He had tearfully pounded his little fists against the window in the visiting room, trying to find some way to break his father out and almost got thrown out by the prison guards. 

Henry had looked on, powerless and miserable, pressing his hand against the glass and told him, "Hey, hey, slugger. Put your paw up here, okay? Right next to mine. Remember, son. There's only an inch of glass between our hands, okay? That's it, just an inch. That's not really that much, right? We're closer than you think." 

Barry had sobbed, putting his little hand up by his father's. "It might as well be a million miles," he had cried. 

"No," Henry soothed, "It's just an inch, an itty bitty little inch. And remember, there might be an inch of glass between our hands, but there's nothing separating our hearts, okay? There's nothing keeping my love from you, not ever. No matter how far apart we are, I will always be with you. I love you, son." 

Barry never forgot that moment; even after Joe came to drag him back home and grounded him for a month for running away. 

When Barry finally turned eighteen and Joe couldn't keep him away any longer, he visited his father as often as he could. Even with an inch of glass between them, they managed to make up for the time that Joe had cost them and forged a beautiful friendship. Henry was more than his father; next to Maury, he had become Barry's best friend, and he treasured their visits. 

It had been over a month since Barry had been able to see Henry last. The city bus didn't go all the way to Iron Heights and since Barry had to sell his car, he had no other way of getting down to the prison except to take a cab. He had no regrets draining his cash to make the trip, eager to see his father for the first time in weeks. 

"Hey, slugger," Henry said with a grin as soon as Barry sat down in front of him and picked up the phone. He raised his hand and gently pressed it against the glass just as he had the first time Barry visited him. "Was starting to get worried, hadn't seen you in a while." 

"Things have been kinda tight," Barry said quickly into the receiver on his end, his hand hovering over his father's in greeting, all part of their little ritual, "Couldn't afford to get down here, but it's okay! Everything is getting better now." 

Henry squinted. "Son, is that... is that a hickey?" 

Barry's eyes widened, blushing instantly as he slapped his hand over his neck. "Uhhh..." 

Henry burst into laughter, teasing, "Oh, well, I guess things are really getting better, huh." 

"Uh, well, yeah, it's kind of complicated," Barry stammered, grinning shyly. 

"Relationships always are," Henry assured him. 

"Anyway. I still haven't been able to get access to the case files," Barry said, quickly shifting the conversation, "The lawyer told me that if I get a motion from a judge, they'll have to let me look at them since we're trying for an appeal. Because of discovery-" 

"Son," Henry soothed, his fingers tapping lightly at the glass, "I haven't seen you since last month. I'd rather hear about how you got that hickey than talk about the case." 

Barry pouted, blinking rapidly. Oh, God. How was he going to explain this to his father. "Uhhh..." 

"Who's the lucky girl?" Henry asked with a smirk. 

"It's a guy, actually," Barry said slowly, "But I don't think... you'd approve." 

"Barry, you came out to me years ago," Henry said, obviously hurt. "You know I love you and support whoever you want-" 

"No, no, no! It's not that he's a guy!" Barry replied hurriedly. "It's that, he's, well. Uhm." The mob boss of Central City and probably almost definitely a murderer. "He's... not exactly what you... might want for me?" 

Henry tilted his head, trying to fill in the blanks. "Older?" 

"Yes!" Barry exclaimed. "He's older." 

"That's it?" Henry scoffed. "How much older?" 

Barry stared blankly. He actually had no idea how old Cold was. All the white in his hair hinted that he was definitely older than he looked, or maybe being a mob boss caused premature graying. "Well, I'm not... exactly sure. It's still very new, uh, I don't know how serious it is. Exactly. Yet." 

Henry smiled warmly, nodding. "Seems like it's off a very good start at least." 

"Yeah." Barry knew his entire face was bright red, able to feel the heat radiating off of his skin. He couldn't help but smile when he thought about Cold, sighing as he added, "But I don't think it's gonna last." 

"Why not?" 

"I don't think... I don't think he's looking for anything serious," Barry replied after a few moments, choosing his words carefully. 

"He's an idiot then," Henry said, snorting roughly. "Because you're amazing. Anybody would be lucky to have you." He could see how awkward Barry was feeling about discussing his love life, so he opted to change the subject. "How's Maury doing? Still rough as hell?" 

"Always," Barry chuckled. "But he's good. Finally quit smoking. You know, mostly." 

"Hey, anything less than the three packs a day he used to smoke is an improvement!" Henry smiled fondly. "I'll always be grateful for him looking out for you. He's a good man." 

"The best," Barry agreed. 

"So, how are your classes going?" 

"Fine," Barry fibbed innocently, forcing a strained smile. As far as Henry knew, Barry was still in college despite having dropped out a few years ago to work on getting the case reopened. Henry also thought that Barry was working at a local law firm as an intern, and he'd actually been fired from that job for snooping around for information on said case. 

"Just fine?" Henry probed. 

"Yeah! I'm, uhm, just taking the one class right now," Barry stammered. He was a terrible liar, but he didn't want his father worrying about him. "Probably gonna take another semester off soon." 

Henry's brows furrowed together, sighing, "Son, if you keep taking time off, you're never going to be a lawyer." 

Barry's smile was a little sad, nodding. "Yeah, I know, Dad. It's okay, I'm going to get it figured it out. I just have to keep saving up so I can pay for my classes myself. I'm already kinda drowning in student loans." 

"Yeah," Henry nodded in return, "I know, slugger. I just want you to have a good life, you know. Graduate, pass the bar, get a good job." He grinned, teasing, "Get your old man out of prison." 

"Hey, I'm working on it!" Barry laughed, smiling softly. That had been the original plan before he couldn't afford to pay his tuition any more. He wanted to be a lawyer so he could free his father and eventually help others that were wrongfully imprisoned. 

But using tuition money for legal fees does not a lawyer make, and Barry had chosen to keep pursuing his father's case instead of continuing school. 

"Seriously," Henry chuckled, "I want you to be happy. Prosper and all that. Really gotta keep an eye on your debts, you know. You don't want those to get out of hand." 

"Right," Barry replied, grinning stupidly. He had a hell of a debt that he was working on right now, but he wasn't exactly complaining about it. 

"What is it?" Henry quirked a brow. He actually snickered, teasing again, "Hmmm, somethin' got you thinking about that new fellow?" 

"Wha-? No! Why, why would you say that," Barry stuttered, scrubbing his hand over his face. 

"Because I can read you like a book," Henry said with a small smirk. "You've got the same googly eyed look that you used to get with Iris." 

Barry's smile faded. 

"Shit. Sorry, kiddo," Henry apologized, cringing slightly. 

Iris was Joe West's daughter and Barry's childhood crush. Their friendship was a casualty of the break between Barry and Joe. Iris easily took her father's side over Barry's, and it had broken his heart to lose her. They hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other since Barry left the West home. 

Barry still thought of her often, but that part of his life was over. He missed her, and she may have been his only regret of the path he had chosen trying to liberate his father. His crush had turned into full blown puppy love when they were teenagers, though Barry never confessed his feelings. They were best friends, and he never wanted to do anything to lose that. 

But Barry couldn't give up on his father, and when he turned his back on Joe? He ended up losing her anyway. She moved out of Central City years ago to finish school. He didn't know whatever became of her, but he hoped she was happy. 

"It's okay," Barry said, with a shrug, balancing the phone receiver on his shoulder. "It was a long time ago." 

"Everything feels like a long time ago now," Henry remarked, leaning forward on his elbows, cradling his chin in his hand. "You know, I'm really glad you came today. There's something I wanna talk to you about. Seriously." 

Barry frowned, tilting his head curiously. "What is it, Dad? Is somebody messing with you again?" 

"No, no," Henry said quickly, "Nothing like that." He sighed, his face wrinkling up in distress. 

"What?" Barry asked quietly, his stomach twisting up in dread. 

"I want you to give up appealing the case," Henry said slowly, his words precise as if he had been practicing them. "If you still want to be a lawyer, that's fine. I hope you have a great career. But you've got to let me go, son." 

"Wha..." Barry stared at his father in shock, his chest heaving as he struggled to take a breath. "No. No, I'm not doing that." 

"Son," Henry said firmly, "It's been almost twenty years." 

"I'm not giving up on you," Barry tearfully insisted, his fingers clenching around the phone. "I know you didn't kill Mom. I know what I saw, and I'm never going to stop." 

"And just how long is this going to go on for?" Henry asked softly. He sounded tired, defeated. "I love you, but we both know you're not really in school right now. I have no idea what you're doing for money, but I know it's not at that law firm." 

Barry gulped, gaping like a fish out of water. Well, crap, so much for that cleverly constructed ruse. 

"You're an awful liar, slugger," Henry said, offering a small smile. "I don't want you to keep putting your life on hold because of me." 

"But Dad," Barry said earnestly, sniffing sadly, "You are my life. You're the only family I have left. I love Maury, but he's not you. You're... you're everything to me. I don't care what you say. I'm getting things figured out, I am, I promise. I'm super sorry for lying to you, but I'm not going to give up on you. I love you." 

Henry's eyes were wet with tears of his own, struggling to maintain his composure. "I love you, too," he murmured, his lip trembling, his resolve crumbling. "I love you so very much." 

Barry put his hand back on the glass, nodding frantically. "Just an inch, remember? That's it." 

Henry took a deep breath, smiling weakly as he put his hand up to join his son's. "Just an inch." 

The buzzer sounded, notifying them that their time was up. Barry groaned in frustration, his eyes pleading with his father. "I love you, Dad. I'm going to get you out of there, I swear." 

"I love you, too," Henry replied quietly, "I love you so much. No matter what, I am so proud of you and grateful for everything that you've tried to do. But. Please remember, son. Only one of us is actually in a prison, okay?" 

Barry frowned, he didn't understand what he meant. But before he could ask, the guard was already there to escort his father away. Barry stood up, waving and watching his father for as long as he could until he disappeared back into the depths of the prison. 

He shuffled back outside to wait for another cab, miserably depressed. He had literally spent all of his life trying to free his father. He had given everything he had, and a lot that he didn't, in an effort to prove his innocence. He knew his father didn't do it. 

He knew the Man in Yellow was real. 

It had been so long that he only saw him in dreams now, but if he concentrated he could recall bits and pieces. The bright yellow coat, the sneer on his twisted face, his mother's cries, the blood... before he knew it, Barry was shaking all over. 

There were benches set up outside the prison gates, and Barry managed to stumble to one and collapse before his legs gave out. He was gasping for air, sobbing into his hands. He wasn't crazy. The Man in Yellow was real, and one day, somehow, Barry was going to find him. 

He was going to find him, and free his father. 

But at what cost, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. He'd lost the entire West family, his college education, his potential career, and he was currently pimping himself out to Boss Cold to pay off his massive debt. Not to mention, it was a debt that had gotten him no closer to freeing his father. 

Barry laughed crazily, bitter and crying. With the money he'd spent in legal fees, he could have finished law school and been representing his father himself by now. 

He wiped off his face, sniffling pitifully. He tried to tell himself there was still time. Once he had this mess straight with Cold, he could still finish his degree. It was possible. He didn't have to give up, he just couldn't. He had to keep hope alive. 

Not just for his father, but for himself, too. 

The taxi arrived to carry him home, trying to spend the next few hours productively. He knew Lisa Snart would be by soon to take him shopping. He took a long shower, shaved, sorted more laundry, and thumbed through the little bit of cash he had left. Twelve dollars and nineteen cents. 

Nineteen cents. 

Barry spread the pennies and nickel and dime out on his kitchen counter. The number seemed inescapable and meaningless all at the same time. Nothing really had meaning now unless it was being whispered in his ear in a velvety tone. 

Cold. 

God, that fucking voice was going to be the death of him. Barry's own father had told him to find happiness, and nothing had ever brought him the same gratification as being a willing slave to Cold's drawling demands. 

But what he had with Cold was just business, it wasn't personal. He didn't get some dumb love struck look on his face when he thought about Cold. It definitely didn't make his heart flutter to think about the brief moments he had been able to touch him. It was just a deal, just a financial agreement. 

Right? 

Barry's head snapped up when he heard a musical jingle of a knock at his door. He stared at the clock on his stove. It was four thirty. Lisa apparently did not have the same appreciation for punctuality as her brother. 

He took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. His mind was running all over the place, a jittery sensation taking up residence now in his gut. 

His father had told him this morning to give up his lifelong crusade to clear his name and he was about to go out shopping with a mob boss' little sister; a mob boss he was sleeping with to work off his ridiculous debt to him and who his adoptive cop father was investigating for murder. 

Oh, and the aforementioned mob boss had no idea that he was related to said cop despite Barry's best efforts to be forthcoming. 

No big deal, his inner voice shrieked. 

When he opened the door, Lisa was propped seductively against the frame with a brown paper grocery bag in her arms and a ridiculously giant purse over her shoulder, grinning slyly like a cat. 

She dropped her voice low, imitating her sibling as she greeted him, "Hello, Mr. Allen." 

Barry smiled in spite of himself, gesturing for her to come on in, giggling, "Hey!" 

"Never too early for margaritas," Lisa chirped as if answering a question Barry hadn't asked. She brushed by him and headed straight to the kitchen as if she had been over here a thousand times before. 

She started pulling out bottles from the paper bag, Barry recognizing tequila and sweet and sour mix, humming a little tune as she moved around through the cabinets. "You know, you really live in a fucking dump," she said dryly, glancing around the dilapidated kitchen. 

"I know," Barry said, frowning at the jab. "It's all I can afford." 

"Aw, I'm sorry, sweetie," Lisa soothed, batting her eyes at him. "Don't feel bad. You know, me and Lenny actually used to live two blocks down from here," she laughed. 

"Really?" Barry blinked. It was hard to imagine Cold living in this part of town. It wasn't exactly nice. 

"Yeah. Fortunes can change overnight, sweetie," Lisa snorted, turning her head to smirk at Barry as she pulled a blender out of her large purse. "You don't know my brother very well, do you?" 

Barry blushed slightly, shrugging. "Didn't exactly have time to Google him while Mick was trying to roast my hand." 

Lisa laughed, a pretty sound like a bell ringing. "Aw, but it was worth it, right? After all, now you have this little 'arrangement'." She briefly paused making drinks to wiggle her fingers in air quotes, grinning slyly. 

"He told you." Barry blushed, watching Lisa dig ice out his freezer and dumping everything into the blender 

"There's very little my brother doesn't tell me," Lisa informed him smugly, popping the lid on and hitting the start button. She let the machine do its thing, pausing to add more tequila and orange juice before blending it all down to slush. 

Barry gulped at that, wondering how much detail Cold was giving her. He must have looked properly horrified because Lisa was laughing again. 

"Oh! Sweetie!" Lisa patted his arm gently. "Don't you fret, he doesn't tell me _everything_. What you boys do behind closed doors is none of my business. Whips and chains, all that, don't care!" 

Barry briefly daydreamed about Cold tying him up and quickly aborted. Did not need to catch wood while hanging out wih Cold's sister. 

Lisa found a plate, pouring a glittering liquor on the plate and pouted at Barry. "Don't suppose you have margarita glasses, do you?" 

"No," Barry replied, scratching the back of his neck with a shy grin. "Uhm, but I have these?" He reached into the cabinet above the sink and pulled out two very cheerful Christmas mugs. One was a reindeer, and the other was a snowman. "They're clean at least." 

"Awww, they're adorable!" Lisa squeaked, eagerly accepting them. She dipped the rims in the liquor on the plate and sprinkled salt all along the damp rim. She poured in the contents of the blender, holding her reindeer mug in a toast. "Cheers!" 

"Cheers," Barry chuckled, gently tapping his snowman mug against Lisa's. He was honestly a little concerned about the taste having seen how much tequila had made it into the blender. He took a dainty sip, surprised to find that it was quite delicious. He smacked his lips, an unexpected taste pleasantly tingling on his tongue. "Is that... cinnamon?" 

"Yup!" Lisa said proudly. "It's Goldschlager. I always put it on the rim of the glass, in the glass, wherever. I love that stuff." 

"Pretty tasty," Barry agreed, taking another sip. 

Lisa hopped up on the counter, perching contently as she drank. "Now, here's the plan, Barry," she said, her lips curling smugly. "First, we make the margaritas. Then we drink the margaritas. Then we make more, and we drink those, too." 

"And when we run out?" 

"Then we go shopping," Lisa said with a grin. 

Barry let out a low whistle. The drinks were strong, and there was still a generous amount of slush left in the blender. "And we're gonna drink all of that?" 

"Need to get you good and liquored up so you'll tell me everything I want to know," Lisa said with a bright smile. 

Barry didn't know how good of an idea that was, leaning his hip against the counter opposite Lisa. "You could just ask me," he said, fidgeting anxiously, "I mean, I can't promise you I'll answer everything." 

"In that case, definitely keep drinking," Lisa commanded, grinning playfully. 

"Shit," Barry chuckled and took another swallow. It had been a very long time since he'd had any alcohol, and it wasn't going to take much to get him good and pliable for Lisa's interrogating. 

"So, are you from Central?" Lisa chirped curiously. 

"Born and raised," Barry replied easily. These kinds of questions he could handle. 

"Any brothers or sisters?" 

"Only child." 

"Parents?" 

"My dad is... around. Sort of. It's complicated. And my mom... she died when I was very little." 

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," Lisa said, her lips pouting softly. "My mom died when I really little, too. So did Lenny's." 

"I'm sorry." Barry meant it. He knew all too well the pain of losing a parent. He drank some more, brave enough to ask, "You and Cold don't... have the same mother?" 

"Oh! No!" Lisa laughed loudly. "Our father was really big into spreading his seed anywhere he could. There's probably a dozen of us little Snarts running around Central, but Lenny and I are the only ones he ever claimed. And that's because he had to, you know..." She trailed off expectantly. 

Barry shrugged helplessly, clearly confused. He had no idea what Lisa was talking about. 

"You really don't know anything about us," Lisa said, amazed by the depth of his ignorance. "Okay, so. My mother was one of Don Louis Santini's cousins. The Santini family that used to control Central City?" 

"Right," Barry said, nodding. "The ones Cold ran off." 

"Yup. This was while they were like at the height of their power. Because my mother was part of the family, Lewis had to step up and marry her. They stayed together until I was, eh, four? She left and we never heard from her again until the cops called us to identify her body." 

"Jesus, I'm really sorry," Barry said, cringing in sympathy. "What... what happened?" 

"It's okay, really," Lisa assured him. "Super long time ago. And well, she was drunk. Ran a stop light, crashed her car." She shrugged. "I don't really remember her very well to be honest, so, it's hard to miss somebody you didn't really know." 

"What about... Cold's mom?" Barry was dying for any information about his mysterious business partner. 

"Oh! She was a jazz singer in one of the Santini family's clubs. Suzanne de Villeneuve. Fancy, right? Ah, she was so gorgeous," Lisa gushed, "I'll have to show you pictures tonight, she was just fuckin' beautiful." 

"Tonight?" 

"Yeah, duh, Cold is hosting the party at his house," Lisa explained with a roll of her eyes, quickly getting back on track. "Anyway. She was this super popular singer, like, was working on a record deal until she got pregnant with Lenny. The Santinis were super pissed with Lewis for putting their little rising star outta commission. 

"She was gonna go back to her singing career after she had him because the Santinis were gonna get profits off her record sales. They were the ones that were fundin' her, you see. There was all this pressure on her to perform again as soon as possible. But she died giving birth to Lenny, and ohhh, the Santinis were furious with Lewis. They blamed him for gettin' her knocked up." 

Barry was aghast as he listened to the intense tale, not even realizing he had finished his drink until he tried to take another sip and found the mug empty. Lisa was quick to notice, refilling it and topping off her own. 

"Don Louis said Lewis and baby Lenny owed him all this money because it was their fault Suzanne died," Lisa went on, "So, Lenny was literally born as like a fuckin' mafia indentured servant. He's been working for them since he could fuckin' crawl. Odd jobs at first, dirtier stuff as he got older. Roughin' people up, robbing places, whatever they wanted." 

Barry frowned, his heart aching for the man that Cold might have become had he been born in a different world. He gulped back his drink, hissing at the brain freeze as he asked, "Wait. Okay, not that I don't appreciate it, but... why are you telling me all of this?" 

"Well, it's not like any of it is a big secret," Lisa drawled, "And besides, you need to know if you and Lenny are gonna keep seeing each other." 

Barry blushed. "It's just, uh, a business deal." 

"Right," Lisa snorted, "Because my brother totally does this all of the time." She cackled wickedly, pouring the last of the slush from the blender into their glasses with an additional splash of Goldschlager. 

"Doesn't he?" Barry pressed, frowning. "I mean, not like all the time... but... " 

"Despite whatever Maury the Mouth told you, no, he does not," Lisa giggled, "He may not admit it, but you're the first person to get this kinda deal." 

Barry didn't know what to say to that, filling the silence with more alcohol. It made him question his current circumstances even more. God, what exactly had he gotten himself into. 

"I know screwin' around for a few days may not seem like a really big deal to you, but trust me," Lisa said, sliding off the counter, "It totally is. He likes you. And maybe if you know more about Cold and try to understand him, well..." She smiled hopefully. "Maybe you'll get the chance to get to know Lenny." 

"I would... I'd like that," Barry admitted with a shy smile. The alcohol was making him warm all over, and soon he couldn't stop smiling at the thought of actually being close to Lenny. No, Cold. His deal was with Cold. 

Barry remembered Maury's warning about his heart and his dick getting mixed up, drowning the thought with another drink. 

"Yeah, figured you might," Lisa said with a wink. She chugged the rest of her drink, setting the empty mug in the sink. She gestured for Barry to do the same, huffing, "Come on." 

Barry nodded obediently, tipping the mug back. He frowned when he saw Lisa leaving the kitchen and making a beeline right to his room. He set his mug in the sink alongside hers, quickly chasing after her. "Uhm, what are you doing?" 

"Len said you needed a new wardrobe," Lisa said as if what she was up to was obvious, already digging through his closet and then moved to his dresser. 

"Pretty sure he just meant for the party?" Barry said, watching her thumb through his underwear drawer in horror. 

"Pretty sure I can interpret it however I want," Lisa challenged with a big smile, "And, okay, yeah. You need some new threads, sweetie." She picked up a rather dismal pair of boxer briefs that had several holes in them. "Desperately." 

"Oh, God," Barry giggled, wishing he could sink into the floor. He was already feeling pretty buzzed, and his legs felt like rubber. He leaned against the wall and pressed his hands to his face, groaning, "I know, it's so bad." 

Lisa giggled, enjoying his embarrassment as she started prancing to the door. She left all of the margarita supplies except the bottle of Goldschlager, shoving that down into her big purse. 

"Don't you worry. Lisa is gonna take care of you. Come along, sweetie," she cooed with a little waggle of her brows, "We've got some serious work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG OMG OMG 
> 
> You're all so freakin' amazing and I wanna huggle all your precious little faces. Thank so very much for the love.
> 
> Also, okay. This chapter ran away from me. Lots and lots of chatting and plot and backstory and AGH. I didn't mean for it to get this long. I don't know what happened. Then Lisa took over and insisted on her and Barry having some drinks before they went out shopping. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisa and Barry go shopping in preparation for the big party.

It was a very good thing that Lisa had arrived in a limo because neither her nor Barry were in any shape to drive. They stumbled out of Barry's apartment building together, arm in arm, laughing and chatting. It was so easy to be comfortable around Lisa. Her warm and happy energy was positively infectious. They piled into the backseat, Barry in awe of the plush accommodations. 

"I've never been in a limo before," he confessed, stretching out his long legs over the seat. 

Lisa sat opposite him next to the built in bar, pulling out of the bottle of booze from her purse with a giggle. "Oh, it's just the fucking best, Len spoils me rotten." She grinned at Barry, poking at his feet playfully. "He'll spoil you, too, you know." 

Barry put his hands over his face, hiding a tipsy smile. "Ohhhh, come on." 

"I'm just saying. Lenny is very good to the people he cares about," Lisa said, picking up a small phone that connected her to the driver. "Jerry? Hi! Yeah, we're ready. The usual, but save Volturo's for last. Thanks!" 

Barry wasn't sure if Cold truly cared or if he was merely very invested in their deal. The way Lisa kept talking about it was giving Barry a lot of hope that he wasn't sure he should hold onto. He watched Lisa hang up the phone and pour them drinks, mixing in a clear citrus soda and a splash of grenadine. 

She had clearly done this many times, able to pour the drinks with the limo in motion without ever spilling a drop. She practically shoved the glass into Barry's hand, cheering him, "Now! Here's to you, Barry Allen!" 

"To me?" Barry didn't understand, but toasted anyway, sipping at the syrupy sweet concoction. 

"Yes!" Lisa said, pointing a finger at him. "I haven't seen my brother this happy in a very long time." 

Barry's cheeks were hot, smiling bashfully. "I think you might be getting your hopes up about what exactly your brother wants from me." 

"Trust me," Lisa said, arching her brow, "I know him better than anyone. The other night when we met at the hotel? I haven't fuckin' seen him smiling like that in years." 

Barry knew exactly which smile she was referring to. "That... that was because of me?" 

"Uh huh," Lisa mumbled over the rim of her glass as she drank. "Sure was. I don't know what you're doing to him, but keep doing it, okay?" 

"Will do," Barry giggled. 

They arrived at the first store, and as Barry crawled out of the limo he realized he was really out of his league. They were in the uptown shopping district, and he had never felt so out of place. Lisa seemed to sense his discomfort, looping their arms together again. 

"Hey, don't worry it," she purred, "We're gonna _Pretty Woman_ the fuck outta you, okay?" 

Barry laughed as Lisa dragged him into the store. She wasn't kidding about buying him an entirely new wardrobe, the sales attendants barely able to keep up with her grabbing things from the racks and tossing them into his arms. 

Button down shirts of all colors and patterns, vintage band t-shirts, slim fitted jeans, lots of jeans, shoes, more shoes, holy crap. 

Barry stared in awe at Lisa making her rounds through the store, never once looking at a price tag. She'd sporadically pause to glance back at Barry, squint as if lost deep in thought, and then continue on. If she couldn't make a decision between two items of clothing, she simply bought them both. 

It was the same everywhere they went, from one store to the next, Lisa bought whatever she wanted for Barry and eventually started letting him pick out some things for himself, too. 

"I had to make sure your fashion taste could be trusted," she teased him while dragging a few dresses for herself back towards the fitting area at the latest boutique. 

This was the fourth store. Or was it the fifth? Barry was undeniably sloshed, but he was having a fantastic time. "I don't have bad fashion taste," he protested with a drunken giggle. "I'm just freakin' poor as hell!" 

"I know, I've seen your apartment," Lisa said with a tiny snicker, gesturing for him to sit down on some funky shaped ottomans that were arranged together in front of the fitting rooms. "We need to get you out of there, like immediately." 

"Can't afford it," Barry chirped, plopping down on the inviting cushions, sighing. "Sort of not really working, you know?" 

"Ugh, just ask Lenny for money," Lisa groaned, stepping into the fitting room. She continued to talk, calling out, "You've got bills to pay, right? And you can't survive on an exclusively protein diet, sweetie!" 

Barry's face blushed furiously, arguing, "I don't want him to be, like, my sugar daddy? I need a job, Lisa. This arrangement we have isn't gonna last forever." 

Lisa came flouncing out of the fitting room wearing a slinky golden dress with an open back that showed off the full graceful length of her spine. She gave a few spins, checking herself in every adjacent mirror, glancing over her shoulder back at Barry. 

"You're definitely not giving yourself enough credit, sweetie pie," she cooed, "But if you're so worried about it, why don't you just ask Lenny for a job then? He owns a bunch of clubs, a restaurant. He could totally get you something legit." 

“I mean, I guess I could," Barry said, rolling over on his stomach and stretching across the plush ottomans. He peered up at Lisa, his eyes again wandering to the mangled collection of scars dancing up and down her back. 

"What is it?" Lisa asked, quirking a brow when she felt Barry staring at her. 

"Can... can I ask you..." Barry was rubbing his face, a little too intoxicated to find a polite way to pose his question. "Uh..." 

"The scars?" Lisa replied, her bubbly charm not fizzling for a second. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Barry said, instantly ashamed for asking. "It's none of my business, I'm an asshole-" 

"No! It's okay," Lisa said with a light laugh. "They're from Lewis." 

"Lewis Snart, your father?" Barry tried not to look absolutely horrified, but he had zero control over his face. "I am so freakin' sorry... I... I didn't know." 

"They're just scars," Lisa said with a sad smile. "I was so little, honestly, I don't remember how I got most of them. Or maybe I just blocked it all out, who the fuck knows. It's no big secret that Lewis used to abuse the fuck out of us. Especially Lenny. God. Lewis really hated him." 

Barry began to connect the dots even in his drunken state, asking softly, "Is that why Cold... uh, doesn't..." 

"Doesn't take off his clothes?" Lisa replied bluntly, "Yeah, that's why. He's very, very funny about them. See, me, I love showing them off. I love knowing what I survived. But Lenny..." She bit her lip, hesitating how much she should share. "Well..." 

"It's okay," Barry said quickly, "I get it. I mean, I don't, but I do? I'm just... I can't believe someone, anyone, would do that to their own kids." 

"You know, I've actually had a lot of time to think about it," Lisa said, her lips curling into a contemplative pout. "I used to think that maybe Lewis did the things he did to us because he never got over Suzanne dying. Maybe that's why he was so cruel; especially to Lenny, since he blamed him for losing her. 

"I had thought, oh, that's why he was horrible to my mother, drove her to drink herself into a fuckin' oblivion, because she wasn't Suzanne. And so, that's why he hurt me; since her leaving couldn't possibly be his fault, it was obviously mine. He had to put the blame on someone else. Anyone else but himself. 

"There was no excuse for all off the horrible shit he did. And me and Lenny sure as fuck didn't deserve it. So. Turns out he was just a fuckin' monster. That's all." 

"Was?" Barry echoed quietly. 

"Ugh, I keep forgetting you live under a fucking rock," Lisa snorted, "Yeah, sweetie. Very much 'was'. He's dead." 

"Dead?" 

"Uh huh," Lisa said, adjusting the straps of the dress and returning to scrutinize her reflection. "Lenny killed him." 

Barry thought he was going to be sick, his hand clasping over his mouth, gasping in horror, "Wait, are you serious? He killed him? Wait, is this like secret mob stuff I'm not supposed to know about, oh, fuck-" 

"Pffffft! No, please," Lisa giggled at how flustered Barry was, "Lenny served time for it. Two years for voluntary manslaughter." 

"That's it?" Barry was in shock and suddenly angry. Cold had killed his own father and had gotten a damn slap on the wrist, whereas Henry, who was innocent, had received a life sentence. It made him absolutely furious with their justice system, and it also left him feeling conflicted about his growing affection for Cold. 

It wasn't up to Barry to decide if a man like Lewis Snart deserved to die for his crimes, though it was clear that he was not a good person. He had known about Cold's reputation, but he had never directly acknowledged that the man he was currently sleeping with was a murderer. 

There was a tiny voice protesting in the back of Barry's mind that at least it had been a horrible guy who the world was probably better off without, and not some innocent person. He was surprised at himself for how quick he was to defend what Cold had done. 

Barry wasn't sure if that was to make himself feel better about sleeping with Cold, or if he truly believed that some crimes were acceptable depending on the circumstances. 

Trying to decide if murder was ever justified was not a debate that Barry's alcohol addled brain was equipped to handle. He sat up, resting his face in his hands, shaking his head as he said, "Wow... just two whole years, huh?" 

"Uh huh," Lisa drawled, returning to the fitting room to change again. "Lewis tried putting his hands on Lenny, and well, Lenny decided it was going to be the last time." 

"And that's why Len-shit, I mean Cold, that's why he doesn't like to be touched," Barry added quietly. "Because of Lewis." 

Lisa stepped back out in her original outfit with the golden dress draped over her arm, offering a sympathetic smile. "Yeah," she said, "And well... there's some other shit. It's just... ugh." 

“What is it?" Barry asked with a frown. 

Lisa sighed, her hand on her hips as she struggled to find the right thing to say. "For Lenny, it's all about trust. It not that he doesn't like to be touched, I mean, fuck. I think he fuckin' craves it. But it has to be on his terms. You just need to be patient with him, okay?" 

"I can do that," Barry nodded, perhaps too eagerly, quickly saying, "You know, because of our deal." 

"Right," Lisa said slyly, laughing, "The deal." 

"Yup," Barry said indignantly, breaking into a big, goofy grin. "And that's all I'm gonna say." 

"Mmmm, then it sounds like you need another drink," Lisa taunted, grabbing Barry's hands and hauling him to his feet. "We've got just one more stop to go! We've gotta get your suit for tonight, and we can fuckin' drink on the way." 

"More drinking?" Barry laughed incredulously, delighted by Lisa's wicked cackling. 

She bought the dress and dragged him back to the limo, another round poured in seconds as they toasted again. 

"Thank you," Barry said, gulping back his drink before Lisa tried to cram it down his throat. "Seriously." 

"For what?" Lisa asked, cocking her head curiously. 

"For this. All of this!" Barry exclaimed, moving to sit right beside her, grinning sweetly. "I can't remember the last time I just, like, hung out with someone. And the clothes, my God, you didn't have to do so much for me. I've been having so much freakin' fun. This is just..." He paused, trying not to get too emotional. 

"Awww, sweetie!" Lisa gushed when she saw the first glimmer of tears, throwing her arms around Barry and hugging him tight. "Don't cry, please. Ugh. I hate when people cry." 

Barry choked out a small laugh, doing his best not to let a single tear fall. "Sorry, it's just... today has been a super crazy day. This is a lot for me, like all at once. Just, whew, kind of overwhelming." 

"You just wait until the party," Lisa promised, waggling her eyebrows. "We are gonna have a fucking incredible time." 

Barry grinned, quickly rubbing his eyes. He was surprised that even as they pulled out of the hug, Lisa was holding his hand so sweetly. "Thank you. Like, seriously." 

"Come on, quit with that mushy shit," Lisa groaned, giggling drunkenly. "You've gotta stay in awesome happy party mode." 

"Right, so, what is the party for? Is it someone's birthday?" Barry asked, making a face as he took another sip of his very sweet drink. 

"It's a welcome home party," Lisa chimed happily, "Kyle Nimbus just gotta out of jail." 

"Kyle... Nimbus? The Mist?" Barry's jaw dropped. "Isn't he... a hitman?" 

"Yup!" Lisa said with a sly grin. "He's one of Cold's original Rogues." 

"Who?" Barry asked helplessly. He really needed to get a computer. 

"The Rogues, that's our little family of criminals," Lisa explained with a happy grin, "The best of the best of Central City's not so law abiding citizens. None of them are Italian, you see, so the Santinis never really wanted anything to do with them. Pretty much treated them all like trash, said none of them were worth a fuck. 

"But along came Lenny, who definitely has no love for the fuckin' Santinis, and he brought them all together. He could see how much potential they had, and he formed his own family, the Rogues. That's how he was able to run the Santinis out of fuckin' town." 

"So... that's who's gonna be there tonight?" Barry squeaked. "All the... Rogues?" 

"Don't worry," Lisa soothed, "They're all loyal to Lenny and if he says hands off, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. It's only the closest family there tonight, and everybody is chill. Ugh, except that creep Thawne, but don't worry about him. He's just weird." 

Lisa considered for a moment, sipping at her drink as she added, "And well, Nimbus is a little feisty, but he's just pissed off that Mardon cheated on him while he was locked up. Ugh, and truthfully, Hartley would have never done it, but he thought Nimbus and Mardon were through, but they really weren't. It also pretty much killed Hartley's chances with Axel because, Goddddd, does Axel hate Mardon because he fucked over his dad this one time." 

Barry shrugged helplessly, trying his best to follow along, but he didn't know all of the names, and honestly it was beginning to sound like a crazy soap opera. "Lots of, uh, inter-company dating?" he tried, grasping at straws to keep up. 

"Lots of angry, horny mobsters," Lisa laughed, looking thoughtful for a long time. "You know, I wouldn't say we're like a gay mafia... but we're like, totally the gay mafia." 

Barry couldn't stop himself from laughing, saying, "Really?" 

"Well, not everybody," Lisa replied with a playful wink, "But you see, that's part of why a lot of these guys were snubbed by the Italians. They're not exactly a real open minded sort of folk, you feel me?" 

"Got it," Barry said, giving a little salute of understanding as he finished off his drink. "So, are you...?" 

"What? Gay? Nah, I like boys, as many as I can get my hands on," Lisa laughed, taking his glass as soon as it was emptied and filling it again despite Barry's groans of protest. "I'm between fellas at the moment, last one didn't end real pretty, but there's one or two I got my eye on." 

"Oh, yeah?" Barry said conversationally, making a face as he tried to swallow down more alcohol. "What happened?" 

Lisa's bubbly aura visibly faded for a moment, shaking her head. "Nothing worth talking about, sweetie." Her energy came back full force as the limo pulled to a stop, cheering, "Ah! We're finally here! Come on!" 

Volturo Designs was a surprisingly old fashioned suit shop nestled in the heart of the uptown shopping district. Dark wood, heavy curtains, and dozens of beautiful suits on display everywhere Barry looked. He was afraid to touch anything, shoving his hands in his pockets as Lisa led him straight towards the back. 

There was a stout young man who had apparently been expecting them, glancing expectantly at his watch as he cleared his throat. "Let me guess. Natural disaster, limo exploded, broke a nail?" 

"I got all caught up playing dress up with my brother's new little friend," Lisa pouted, she and Worley exchanging quick kisses on their cheeks. "Seriously, though, I need you to make me a miracle because we've got a huge party to go to tonight. In like, uhm." She looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh, two hours?" 

"Holy crap," Barry gasped, staring at the time in shock. It was already after seven. He couldn't believe how long he and Lisa had been out shopping. Shit. 

"I've got this," Worley said confidently, brushing Lisa out of his way, "Stand aside. Professional at work here." He took one look at Barry, peering curiously as he said, "Let's see... About a thirty-eight long? And oh, those legs. Okay. I've got just the thing." 

Lisa grinned and came back to retrieve Barry from where he had floundered, guiding him towards the private fitting rooms. There was a large array of mirrors and plush leather furniture, happily shutting the door behind them. "Don't worry, I won't peek," she teased, covering her eyes. 

"Wait, what am I doing?" 

"You're stripping," Lisa informed him bluntly, "Worley is gonna have to measure you. These suits are made to order, but, hopefully with his genius little paws? The alterations won't take long." 

Barry walked towards the mirrored area, frowning as he began to undress. He at least had his underwear left on, and Lisa wasn't peeking between her fingers as best as he could tell. 

Worley came in with a bright smile, carrying a dark red suit over his arm. "Come on, handsome," he said, offering it out to Barry. "It's time to get you ready for the ball!" 

"Let me know when I can look!" Lisa demanded. 

"Can't rush perfection," Worley snapped back, rolling his eyes as he helped Barry get dressed. 

The fabric felt wonderful against Barry's skin, and the color was almost the same hue as blood. It was a rich, deep scarlet, and Barry loved it. Worley had selected a black button up shirt and a white bowtie, gawking at himself in the reflection of the mirror when it was all on. 

The suit fit very well, the pants showing off long legs, and the jacket was tailored perfectly at his waist to flatter his slender build. He had never been a particularly vain person, but he couldn't stop himself from twisting and turning in front of the mirror. 

Barry had never felt so handsome, smiling dopily to himself. He really hoped that Cold was going to like it, surprised at himself when he realized how much he valued the Cold's approval. 

He quickly realized there was no price tag on the outfit, gulping audibly. He did not want to know how much this cost. 

Worley whistled, calling out to Lisa, "Behold! Perfection." 

Lisa dropped her hands and squealed excitedly, "Yes! Oh, my God. Worley, where has this little gem been hiding?" 

"It's an Oswald Original," Worley said proudly. "Rumor has it he made it personally for his hubby, but hubby haaated it. But he and your little friend are practically the same size. It's meant to be." 

"We're getting it," Lisa insisted immediately. "Do whatever you have to do. We have to leave with this in two hours." 

Worley snapped his fingers at Barry to stand up on a small footstool, having him turn away from the mirror. He produced a measuring tape, moving Barry back around a few times, casually cutting his eyes at Lisa as he said, "Terrible to hear about Dickie." 

"Yup, I'm just terribly broken up about it," Lisa replied in a voice that indicated she was anything but. Her whole body was tensed, her eyes narrowing at Worley with a ferocious anger Barry had never seen. 

Worley's happy demeanor fell at that, saying quickly, "Well. Good news. I only have to let out the hem on the pants like half an inch. Shouldn't take more than an hour." 

Barry swayed slightly, trying to hold as still as possible while the tailor made one last measurement. He frowned, curious, but cautious enough to wait before he inquired about Lisa's odd reaction. 

He stripped off the suit and started pulling his own clothes back on, waiting until Worley had left to make the alterations to ask, "Who's Dickie?" 

"Dickie White," Lisa said with a faint snarl curling her lip. "My ex-boyfriend." 

Barry scratched his head, asking out loud, "Why does that name sound so damn familiar." 

"Oh? Hadn't you heard? It's all over the news," Lisa chuckled sourly, "That's the guy whose murder they're trying to pin on Lenny." 

Barry's heart stopped. The case Joe was investigating. Oh, fuck. 

"Are you all right?" Lisa asked, sounding concerned. "Drink too much?" 

"Yeah, just a little woozy," Barry said lamely. 

"Hey! Worley?" Lisa called out sweetly. 

Worley poked his head in obediently, asking, "Yes, Miss Snart?" 

"Would you please be a dear and send someone over to Big Belly Burger for us? We need some grub to soak up some of this booze," she purred, batting her eyes sweetly. 

"Of course, Miss Snart," Worley said, the two of them sharing a small smile as they glanced at Barry. He looked positively green. 

Barry sat down quickly in one of the plush chairs, swiping a hand through his hair. Crap, he was sweating. The murder case Joe was looking into was Lisa's ex-boyfriend. This couldn't be good. 

Oh, crap. 

Oh, _fuck_. 

Barry stared nervously at Lisa, trying to smile. She had said something about the relationship not ending well. Well, crap, of course it hadn’t ended well if Cold had killed the guy. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lisa asked, frowning. Even drunk, she could tell something was amiss. 

“Just too much to drink,” Barry replied with a weak smile, wishing for once he was a better liar. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Lisa said, either not noticing the weak fib or ignoring it. “So! Excited about tonight?” 

“Totally,” Barry said, and this time his smile was genuine. 

They chatted about the party and Barry listened to Lisa’s gossip about the Rogues until the food arrived. Barry had never been so happy to see food, eagerly devouring two cheeseburgers by himself. It helped settle his stomach, and he was starting to feel much better. 

Worley came back with the finished suit, claiming it was a masterpiece and Lisa started cursing when she realized what time it was. 

“Your fuckin’ masterpiece took longer than an hour!" Lisa wailed. "Fuck! We’re gonna be late!” 

Lisa went out to the car to fetch some of Barry’s new shoes and socks, commanding him to get ready with a quickness. She left the room this time, taking Worley with her. 

Barry quickly changed, but frowned at his underwear. They were another ratty pair of boxer briefs like the ones Lisa had teased him about. It didn't feel right to wear something so awful with such a nice suit. He decided to be daring and skip any undergarments all together, smiling proudly to himself as he finished getting dressed. 

When Barry looked in the mirror, he felt like a completely different person. He felt… happy. 

He ignored the heaviness creeping into his heart thinking about Joe’s investigation. He knew Cold was a murderer, no doubt about it. Lisa even said he had served time for killing their own father. But when they were together, none of that mattered. Cold became his whole world, and Barry found he didn’t care about the terrible things the man had done. 

Being with Cold made him feel complete. 

He took a deep breath, nodding at himself resolutely. If this deal with Cold was going to amount to anything more, he had to be honest with him. He was going to tell Cold the truth about Joe. Tonight. 

Barry balled up his old clothes, stepping out of the room for Lisa’s approval. She squealed in delight, quickly fussing with his hair. After a quick spray of cologne, she deemed him fit for the party. 

“So… just how late are we going to be?” Barry asked once they were back in the limo. 

“Mmmm, late enough to make an entrance,” Lisa said with a wicked smile. She had dragged her new golden dress into the back with them, pointing at Barry and giggling, “Now, I’ve gotta get ready! No peeking!” 

Barry obediently closed his eyes, although he was tempted to open them out of concern at all the bumping around he heard. “You okay?” “Okay, all good,” Lisa announced. “Ta-dah!” 

Barry opened his eyes, grinning to see Lisa changed into her new dress with matching glittering heels, makeup already done and her hair swept back in an elegant poof of curls. He laughed, clapping. “Very impressive.” 

“Might have had to get dressed in the back of a car once or twice in my life,” she teased with a wink. She picked up the phone, twisting the cord around her finger and grinning as she said, “Hey, Jerry? Beautiful, handsome, gorgeous Jerry? Light of my life, apple of my eye? Step on it, babe. We got a fuckin’ party to get to!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lisa took over again and now they're late for the party. I didn't mean for the exposition to get out of control. But it did. And I'm sorry. Party next chapter for sure! AND THE DRAMAS GETS THICK.
> 
> Thank you as always for all of your love and kudos and comments! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party is quite eventful.

Cold's compound was a massive estate consisting of a mansion, a large conservatory, and a grand pool watched over by elaborate marble statues. It was surrounded by a tall iron fence, and the grounds were patrolled constantly by armed guards. 

With dogs. 

Wow. 

Barry's face was pressed up against the window of the limo as they were ushered through the gates, staring in awe. 

He had never seen any place so incredible except in movies. 

The limo pulled right up to the front of the mansion, an attendant opening the door and offering his hand to assist Lisa out. 

"Thanks," she cooed sweetly, gracefully exiting the limo. She had her giant purse under her arm, batting her eyes as she asked, "Would you be a dear and take the bags in the trunk upstairs? You can put them all in Lenny's room. Thanks, dear!" 

Barry stumbled after Lisa, his jaw still dropped as he looked all around. He couldn't believe that any of this was real. He was immediately afraid to touch anything as they walked inside, eyes wide as he tried to take everything in. 

It was modern, simple, clean. Cold liked dark, cool colors and strong, bold furniture. There were no pictures that Barry could see, no art or sculptures, but there were dozens of fresh calla lilies scattered all throughout the house. Their fragrance was faint, but inviting amongst the cold decor. 

Lisa carelessly dropped her purse on a nearby table, grabbing Barry's hand and giggled, "Come on! 

She started marching trough the long hallways, heels clicking as she called out sweetly, "Lenny! Where are you?" 

After a few turns and still no answer, she impatiently shrieked, "Len, where the fuck are you at!" 

"In the den!" Cold yelled back, annoyed, "For fuck's sake, Lisa!" 

Lisa smiled triumphantly, leading Barry towards the source of her brother's voice. 

Like the rest of the house, the den was spacious and uncluttered. There were a few plush leather sofas arranged around a glass top coffee table. There was a large bar, fully stocked, adjacent to a fireplace that dominated the room, bathing it in amber flickering light from the flames. 

Cold was standing by the fireplace, dressed to kill in a dark three piece pinstripe suit. His cufflinks glittered with the sparkle of diamonds and he was wearing white spats over his shoes. He looked every bit the gangster king as Barry had ever seen him. 

God, Barry wanted to drop to his knees on the floor at the very sight of him. 

Cold turned his head when he and Lisa entered, and he had the strangest look on his face when he saw Barry. He was lost and suddenly found all in the space of a few seconds, his usual smirk sliding into place. 

Cold tilted his head, purring approvingly, "Why, Mr. Allen. You clean up well." 

"I do good work," Lisa chirped proudly, heading right to the bar to make drinks. 

Barry couldn't stop the dopey smile that tumbled onto his face, beaming at Cold as he gushed, "Wow. Me? Thanks, but I mean, look at you! You, you look incredibly fuckin' sexy." 

Cold's cheeks turned pink. 

The mob boss of Central was actually blushing. 

"Come here," Cold commanded softly, beckoning Barry over with a finger. 

Barry kept grinning, tipsy enough to be brave and lean close as he approached, whispering loudly in Cold's ear, "I'm not wearing any underwear." 

Cold's hand snapped up to the back of Barry's neck before he could get too close, but he was smiling softly. 

Barry gasped quietly, leaning into Cold's hand. He could feel his thumb lightly brushing over the little hairs on the back of his neck, and he shivered pleasurably. 

Cold's eyes flicked over Barry's lovely form, drawling, "Duly noted..." 

Barry wobbled a little, resisting the urge to hold onto Cold for support. 

"How much booze did my sister pump into you?" Cold asked with a soft chuckle, taking in Barry's flushed face and glassy eyes. 

"Just the right amount!" Lisa replied, laughing. 

"We had a really, really nice day, and we maybe had a lot to drink, but I'm super okay," Barry said, smiling shyly, "Thank you. Seriously. For everything." He adored how warmly Cold was looking at him, and Barry was suddenly consumed by the desire to peel that suit right off, and get on top of him, and oh, mmph. Shit. Not now. Focus. He had to focus. 

Talk. He needed to talk. 

_Joe._

Barry pulled himself out of his lustful daze, licking his lips as he said cautiously, "Could we maybe... talk? Somewhere... private?" 

"So eager, are we?" Cold snorted, misreading his request as he watched Barry's tongue. "Later. Right now, you're to be seen, not heard. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, sir," Barry replied quietly. 

Well, fuck. 

Lisa was cutting up lemons, interrupting as she demanded, "Where the hell is everyone? Or are they all late, too?" 

"Believe it or not, dear sister, you're the first ones here," Cold drawled, his hand still resting on Barry's neck and petting his hair softly. He nodded towards the nearest sofa, wordlessly urging him to go sit down. 

Barry mourned the loss of contact, but he obeyed, taking a seat on the couch nearest Cold. 

There was a loud commotion from somewhere off in the mansion, Cold tilting his head as his sister brought him a drink. "Mmm, not anymore." 

Mick Rory came barging in, no jacket, no tie, and his shirt was distinctly singed across the front. He was grinning, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Barry lounging on the sofa. He burst into a hearty laugh, cheering, "Hey! Twig! Comin' on up in the world." 

Barry waved awkwardly, remembering Cold's command about staying quiet. 

Mick gave Cold a smug smile, grinning slyly as he teased, "You're so full of shit." 

"Fuck off, Mick," Cold said affectionately, "Have a drink." 

Barry briefly wondered what Mick was taunting Cold about, but kept his curiosity to himself.

Lisa was enjoying her role as bartender, pouring a tumbler of something dark, maybe whiskey. "Hey, Mick!" she purred, offering out the drink. 

"Heya, Goldie," Mick rumbled sweetly, grabbing the glass and knocking it back in one go. Lisa refilled it and he drank it again with a happy hiss. "Damn, hit me again." 

"Easy, tiger," Lisa teased, topping him off once more. 

"Any sign of the guest of honor?" Cold drawled. 

"Oh, yeah, he's here. Last I saw him, he had Mardon ass up in the back of his Nova," Mick chuckled, choosing to sip his drink now instead of chugging it. 

"Aw, so they're getting back together?" Lisa said, sounding hopeful. 

"Didn't think Mardon had ever gotten around to apologizing," Cold said with a faint smirk. 

"Ass up ain't a bad way to start apologizing," Mick said sagely, "Fuck if I know, though." 

Barry watched the three of them interacting, and the camaraderie and love was obvious between them all. They really were a family. He still wasn't sure how Mick fit, but it was clear that he belonged with the Snart siblings. 

Lisa came around the bar, bringing a fruity looking cocktail to Barry, winking playfully as she said, "Here ya' go, sweetie." 

Barry mouthed his gratitude, smiling happily. He could handle this. It was just a little party. Nothing to freak out over. 

Then he saw a familiar face walking in, and maybe, just maybe, it was okay to freak out a little bit.

Kyle Nimbus appeared at the doorway, as silent as his nickname, dark eyes roaming over the room. His face was blank, mouth drawn tight in serious concentration. 

Barry recognized him from newspaper clippings, sinking down into the couch cushions. The assassin was ten times more terrifying in person, drowning his startled expression in his drink. His gaze was intense, and Barry was glad it wasn't directed anywhere near him. 

Just a party, Barry reminded himself. For this guy. Who had just gotten out of prison for God knows what. 

Nimbus was looking for Cold, quickly approaching him and bowing his head respectfully. 

"Nimbus," Cold said softly, a slight hiss as he held the last syllable. "Good to see you". 

Nimbus knelt, kissing Cold's hand with a soft sigh. "Boss." 

Cold flinched, but allowed it, patting Nimbus' shoulder. "We're glad to have you back." 

Lisa already had a drink ready, a martini loaded with olives, handing it to the assassin as he rose to his feet. She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, chirping, "We've missed you." 

Nimbus gave a crooked, rueful smile as he accepted the drink, nodding. "It's good to be back." His quick eyes found Barry, an unfamiliar face at his special party. "Who's the twink?" 

Barry had been watching the spectacle, trying to grasp the inner workings of the varying power dynamics at play here, but all he could think about was being on his knees like that for Cold. He inhaled sharply when he realized everyone was staring at him, smiling dumbly. 

"Oh, he's mine," Cold purred, and Barry swore he detected a hint of pride. 

Nimbus leered, chuckling quietly as he said, "A lot has changed since I've been in the damn clink, eh?" 

"Mmmm. Some," Cold admitted, a sly smile gracing his handsome face. "Barry, this is Kyle Nimbus. Nimbus, Barry." 

Barry waved shyly, but fortunately Nimbus wasn't very interested in him. He tilted his head in greeting, but his eyes were quickly diverted to the doorway as another guest arrived. 

The newly arrived Rogue was handsome and scruffy, his cheeks a bit rosy. He and Nimbus exchanged coy smiles, and Barry correctly identified him as Mark Mardon. 

"Hey, Boss," Mardon said, opting for a handshake instead of dropping to his knees. "Mick, Lisa..." He nodded at them as he spoke their names, smiling as he said, "Nimbus." 

"Hey," Nimbus said casually, as if they hadn't been locked together in passion's most intimate embrace only a little while ago if Mick was to be believed. 

Mardon smiled at Barry, a bit puzzled. "And who the hell are you? Don't I know you from someplace?" 

"He's with Cold," Nimbus informed him with an envious snarl, "So, don't get any fuckin' ideas." 

"One fucking time!" Mardon passionately exploded, all pretenses of them being mere acquaintances lost. "I fuck up one fucking time-" 

"Six," Nimbus corrected, his stoic demeanor crumbling as he shouted, "You fucked up six times, and once was with Hartley!" 

A young man with glasses and dark hair had popped up at the door. But hearing the name turned him right around and sent him scurrying back down the hallway as Nimbus and Mardon continued to bicker. 

A few seconds later he was being brought back under duress by a tall, slim fellow who looked no older than Barry and a wild eyed man who had to at least be in his sixties. 

Barry was actually glad he was only serving as a spectator. The chaos was a glorious train wreck. There was a rush of hugging and cheering for Nimbus by the new arrivals, but he was more interested in screaming at Mardon for his rampant infidelity. The older man was egging them on, encouraging Nimbus to take a poke at the man with the glasses while the tall fellow laughed. 

Barry listened intently, quickly picking up on all their names despite the lack on introductions. 

Hartley Rathaway. That was the young man with the glasses who very much did not want to get hit and was trying to back away as quickly as possible. 

Axel Walker was the laughing fellow, and the troublemaker was his father, James Jesse, the pair representing both the youngest and oldest members of the Rogues. 

Cold swept into like the fray like a ringmaster, separating Mardon and Nimbus while pushing Hartley off onto a slightly resisting Axel. He sent James over to busy himself at the bar, making drinks and telling lewd jokes. He had to keep pulling Mick away from the fireplace when he had been staring for too long, pausing to exchange a smile with his sister as she passed out a fresh round of booze. 

It was the most dysfunctional family reunion he had ever witnessed, the mania perfectly lubricated by all the alcohol Lisa was too eager to pour. Barry shook his head, realizing how easy it was to forget they were all murderers and criminals. 

Cold had been ignoring Barry for most of the evening, playing host and mediator to his Rogues as time ticked by. He would still occasionally glance over and smirk at Barry, giving hungry little looks that made him shudder. 

For his part, Barry was content to sit and look pretty, enjoying the fruity concoctions that Lisa kept feeding him. 

His next drink was brought to him by Cold himself, Cold's long fingers gently tracing over the nape of Barry's neck as he said, "I'll be right back. Gotta have a little private chat with Mick and Nimbus." 

Barry nodded obediently, peering earnestly up at Cold. He was truly enjoying himself, but it was hard to relax. "Then can we talk?" he asked hopefully. 

"Maybe," Cold purred, his eyes raking over Barry's suited form. "We'll see." 

Barry nodded, watching Cold leave with Nimbus and Mick, sighing softly. The longer he had to wait, the more pent up he was starting to feel. If he didn't tell Cold the truth soon, he was going to freakin' burst. 

He stood up, restless, moving to the fireplace to watch the flames. He sipped at his drink, glancing around at the remaining occupants. 

Lisa was gossiping with Axel while James was stacking glasses on top of the bar in an impressive pyramid. Hartley and Mardon were on opposite sides of the room, though Hartley peered at Barry curiously a few times. None of them really paid much attention to him, and Barry was glad for it. 

Barry returned to watching the fire roaring away, not noticing that another guest had arrived until he heard Axel groaning softly, "Come on. _He's_ here?"

"Sorry I'm late to the party," a smooth voice announced, prompting Barry to turn around and see a blonde man in a dark blue suit. Not entirely unhandsome, but there was something unsettling about him that gave Barry pause. 

"Now, now," James scolded at Axel, "Don't be rude, son." He grinned nastily, clarifying cheerfully, "Make sure he can hear you, poor bastard might be deaf." He took a deep breath, shouting dramatically, "Oh, for the love of _Goddddd_ and all that's holy! _He's here_?!" 

"Like that?" 

"Just like that," James nodded. 

The man did not look amused. 

Lisa called out her drunken salutations, the other Rogues either mumbling or ignoring him completely. 

The man didn't seem distressed by the Rogues' dismissal of him, his eyes immediately zeroing in on Barry. 

"Well, hello there," the man drawled, a bright smile lighting up his face as he approached. 

"Hands off," Lisa warned with a slight slur to her words, "He's with my brother. My brother's." 

"Oh, ho ho. What a sweet little princeling. And imagine that, for the king himself." He snorted, looking Barry over curiously. "So, Cold left you here all by your lonesome?" the man asked with a mocking pout.

"He just, uh, he had to have a meeting," Barry replied quickly and forced a small smile, trying to be friendly. He didn't know this gentleman, but there was something about him that made Barry uncomfortable. 

The man was staring at Barry unabashedly, his eyes flicking over him from head to toe. He didn't know if he wanted to sleep with him or wear his skin. 

Maybe both. 

Definitely creepy. 

Barry fidgeted, his smile becoming more strained as he said, "I'm sure he won't be much longer." 

The man suddenly advanced, so close now that Barry could see the blue of his eyes and his gaze was uncomfortably intense. He bowed his head as if they were about to share a secret, murmuring softly, "Do you know who I am?" 

"Uh, no?" Barry replied, blinking as he took a step back to put some space between them. "I'm sorry, I'm not technically supposed to, uh, talk to anyone. I don't... I don't know who you are, sir." 

The man seemed to relax at that, his lips curling up thoughtfully. "No, I suppose you wouldn't," he said after a moment, allowing Barry to retreat to a comfortable distance. He smiled, extending his hand. "I'm Eobard Thawne." 

"Hi," Barry said, shaking his hand politely. "I'm Barry, Barry... You know, just Barry." 

"Barry _Allen_ ," Eobard supplied quietly with a cocky smirk, not letting go of his hand. He squeezed so hard it hurt, pulling him even closer as he hissed, "You may not know me, but I definitely know who you are." 

Fuck. 

Barry's face flushed, frantically jerking his hand away. Oh, this wasn't good. How did Eobard know his name. How did he know who he was. 

Mardon had been hovering a few yards away, watching Eobard stalk Barry. He had come close enough that he could hear them, snapping suddenly, "Wait, Barry Allen. As in, Joe West's fucking kid?"

Eobard scowled for a moment, but his polite expression returned in a blink. It seemed that he hadn't wanted to share his discovery with the rest of the class, but there was no point in hiding it now. "Indeed." 

Barry didn't know what to do. Cold had told him to stay put, but all he wanted to do right now was run like hell. Neither Thawne or Mardon looked very friendly. 

"Oh, yeah, I knew you looked fucking familiar. I fucking know you," Mardon sneered, glaring at Barry, "Your fucking dad killed my fucking brother. What the fuck! Does Cold fucking know who you are, huh?" 

"I-I don't know anything about your brother," Barry stammered, frantically backing himself against the wall with both Mardon and Thawne closing in. "And Cold... uhm..." 

"Hey, hey, hey!" Lisa shouted, stumbling as she came around the bar, struggling to sober up with a quickness. "What the fuck do you think you idiots are doing!" 

Mardon jerked his head at Barry, snapping, "This is Joe West's fuckin' kid! Like, his adopted kid!" 

"Oh, please. He is not," Lisa groaned, but she blinked, staring curiously at Barry. There was doubt beginning to sneak in, her pretty lips curling into a frown. She looked hurt, asking him directly, "Are you?" 

Barry's eyes were wide with terror, trying to explain, "Yes, but fuck, look, we don't ever talk, I ran away-"

"Why didn't you say anything?" Lisa demanded, clearly betrayed and upset. 

"I kept fucking trying!" Barry cried, frustrated and afraid. He yelped when Thawne grabbed his collar, dropping his drink and wincing at the sound of shattering glass. 

Thawne pulled him roughly away from the fireplace and starting to drag him away. "Oh, I'll take care of this little problem myself," he promised, leering horribly at Barry.

Barry was scared, but he wasn't going to go anywhere with Thawne without a fight. He swung, trying to push him away, snapping, "Get the fuck off me!" 

"Thawne, let him go!" Lisa hissed, taking off one of her heels and rearing her arm back. "God fuckin' help me, I will beat the brains out of your head with my fuckin' Jimmy Choo if you don't let him go!" 

"Lisa, for fuck's sake!" Mardon groaned. "That guy is a pig's fuckin' brat, probably came here to spy on us! You think it's a coincidence that West is all up Cold's ass about Dickie, and now this guy just happens to show up?" 

"I don't care!" Lisa snarled, pointing her shoe at Mardon now. "Lenny said hands the fuck off, and I don't see Lenny right now. Do you?" 

"No, but-" 

"But fuckin' nothin'!" Lisa raged, her eyes snapping to Thawne, growling again, "Get your nasty fuckin' mitts off of him. We'll let Lenny decide what to do. Until then, let him go."

"I don't fucking take orders from you, Lisa," Thawne hissed dryly, and Barry tried to wiggle away again while he seemed distracted. Thawne's grip only tightened, suddenly crashing Barry's face into his knee.

Barry collapsed to the floor, crying out in pain. His lip was split, and he could taste blood. 

"You fucking bastard!" Lisa seethed, flinging her shoe at Thawne's head. She missed by a mile and cursed loudly, reaching for her other heel. 

"Easy now," Thawne chuckled, holding up his hands and easily batting away the other shoe as it came flying at his head. "Just a little tap. He's fine." 

"You are such a fucking douche nozzle," Lisa growled, dropping down to Barry's side and wrapping her arms around him protectively. She glared up at Thawne, snapping, "Ohhhh, Lenny is gonna fuck you up." 

"Over some cop's kid? Please," Thawne sneered disgustedly. "Cold won't fucking care, he'll probably thank me!" 

"And what exactly am I thanking you for?" Cold's voice boomed suddenly, his eyes glittering with a fury Barry had never seen. He walked into the den, Mick and Nimbus flanking either side of him. 

Mick's giant hands curled into fists, and Nimbus had a gun drawn in a blink. They weren't looking Barry though, all of their wrath was aimed directly at Thawne. 

Barry didn't understand the reason for all the animosity, but it was very clear that no one was a fan of him. Then again, in a few moments once Mardon and Thawne spilled the beans, no one else was gonna be a big fan of Barry either. 

Thawne rolled his eyes, gesturing toward Barry as he said, "Your little escort here is not what he seems." 

"Cold, this fucking kid is Joe West's son," Mardon snapped, "I knew I had seen him before! I just didn't recognize him."

"Neither did I," Thawne laughed, "Tell me, Barry. When'd ya' start dying your hair? I kinda miss the blonde." 

"Fuck, I hadn't seen him in like ten years," Mardon jeered, "Was checking him out and that sister of his, looking for some payback for Clyde. Couldn't ever track 'em down!" 

Cold reached down, his hands firm but gentle as he pulled Barry from Lisa's arms and up to his feet. He cradled the back of Barry's head, tilting his face towards him so he could get a better look at the damage. 

Barry was shaking all over, his fingers curling tight around Cold's wrist as his eyes filled with tears. This was it, Cold was going to kill him. He was going to tear him into pieces and feed him to the damn dogs outside. Yup. This was the end.

"Are you all right?" Cold asked quietly. His rage appeared to be simmering for the moment, but his expression was stern. He was letting Barry hold his wrist without protest, his icy blue eyes peering at him intently. 

"I'm o-okay," Barry stammered in surprise, tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't want this to end, no, not like this. He had to plead his case, he had to fight, trying desperately to explain, "Please. Listen. Look, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I kept trying to tell you-" 

"Shhhh, be quiet now," Cold soothed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing Barry's bleeding lip. 

Barry was stunned, blinking rapidly. Cold had to have heard the Rogues' accusations, but he didn't appear to care. He only seemed concerned with Barry, scrutinizing the wound once more with a little frown.

"What the fuck, Cold!" Mardon shouted, furious that Cold was ignoring them and was so caught up in Barry. "I demand fuckin' blood for Clyde. Let me have the fuckin' kid! Are you listening to anything I'm sayin'? He's Detective Joe West's son!"

Cold did not look impressed by Mardon's outburst, glaring at him heatedly as he calmly drawled, "Yes... I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHA!!! Props to Crimson and Candyoranges for knowing somethin' was mighty suspect. Hope you guys enjoy the little twist, more shenganigans to come! 
> 
> Oh, and we might get a visit from the smut fairy. Thank you guys so very much! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Cold make a new deal in light of recent revelations.

No one was more shocked than Barry, gawking stupidly at Cold. He knew. The gangster knew that Joe was his adopted father. Wait. Why. How. Barry's mind was spinning with questions, trying to stay grounded, but he was absolutely terrified. 

Was this the part where Cold made him go sleep with the fishes? Cement shoes? Was this all some horrible trap? 

"You brought that pig's fuckin' kid here? Why?" Mardon snarled. 

"My intentions with Mr. Allen are none of your business," Cold said cooly, "But I can assure you he's no threat to any of you." 

"What about Clyde?" Mardon demanded. 

"You'll get your blood debt some other way," Cold snarled back, baring his teeth, "You will not get it tonight, and you will certainly not get it from Mr. Allen." 

Barry clung to Cold's wrist, staring at Mardon to see what he was going to do. 

Mark Mardon backed off, clearly not pleased, but loyal enough to stand down. "Fine, Boss," he said bitterly with a shrug. "Whatever the fuck you say." 

Nimbus had lowered his gun, moving to Mardon's side and resting his hand on his shoulder. They exchanged a brief glance, something tender and meaningful that was over all too fast for Barry to even guess what it might have meant. 

Thawne was not discouraged at all, snapping, "Oh, but I think not. I've got my own personal business with Detective West." His eyes zeroed in on Barry, adding nastily, "And I would love to tell Mr. Allen here all about it." 

"Yeah? And let you put your fucking hands on him again?" Lisa snapped, grabbing her shoes up from the floor, "I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but if you think you're gonna hurt Barry? Ohhh, I will rock your fucking skull with six inches of steel-" 

"Lisa," Cold said, his voice quick and stern. 

Lisa glared, but lowered the shoe. 

The other Rogues all watched silently, and the air was tense. There had been a serious violation of their decorum, and now it had to be corrected. They all seemed to know what was coming. 

"Mr. Thawne," Cold said, his voice eerily calm. "I think you're forgetting something very important here. We Rogues have rules." He gently guided Barry into Lisa's arms, and his eyes flickered to Mick in an unspoken command. 

Mick grabbed Thawne without question, roughly dragging him over to the bar. Cold was right behind him in a flash, snatching Thawne's arm and forcing his hand up on the bar top. Thawne struggled, trying in vain to break away from Mick's iron grip. 

"Ohhh, you fucked up now," Axel giggled menacingly. 

Barry could only look on in horror, clinging to Lisa. Oh, God. What was Cold going to do. 

"Rule number one; I'm the fuckin' boss," Cold hissed, his teeth clenched together in a terrifying rage, grabbing the knife Lisa had been using earlier to slice up lemons. 

"No! No, please!" Thawne begged, writhing desperately. "I'm sorry, I meant no disrespect!"

Barry couldn't stop staring at the knife, his heart jumping up into his throat. This was wrong. He couldn't take his eyes off the blade, and he started sweating. 

Mick's face was a joyous leer, helping Cold get Thawne's hand in position, spreading his fingers. 

"I'm the boss, and do you know what that means? It means you don't touch what's mine!" Cold spat viciously, raising the knife up, glittering in the light before it came down with a sickening thwack. 

Thawne screamed, and Barry felt strange. His body was light, light as a feather, and he was floating. He wasn't inside the mansion any more, he was back at home. His family's old home. He could see the knife hitting his mother in the chest over and over, he could see the blood. 

The room began to spin, and the Man in Yellow was there with the knife in his hand, laughing as his mother screamed for mercy. He couldn't stop watching, and the Man in Yellow's face was a blank void. He didn't have a face, why didn't he have a face. The void was melting away as he cackled, and everything went black. 

"Barry? Barry!" It was Lisa's voice calling to him, cradling his face sweetly. 

Barry stirred, groaning quietly. 

A sharp slap across his cheek made him yelp, Lisa cooing, "Aw, there. See? He's fine!" 

Barry's eyes opened, realizing he was on the floor. He saw Lisa hovering over him, then noticed Cold crouched next to her. His hand was on Barry's chest, and he felt hot all over from the contact. 

Cold's brow was furrowed, and Barry could have sworn he actually looked concerned. It made his heart skip a beat, waiting for the room to stop spinning around. 

"Are you okay?" Lisa asked with a little frown. 

Barry looked around, asking clumsily, "Is he... what happened? Where is everyone?" 

"Thawne left to go lick his boo boo. Everybody else is out playing by the pool. You fainted, sweetie," Lisa cooed, gently petting his hair. "No tummy for blood, huh?" 

"I guess, uhm. No. Not really," Barry groaned, struggling to sit up. He stared at Cold, realizing there was a faint spray of blood spattered over his arm and wrist. 

Cold moved his hand when he saw Barry gawking, standing to his feet and adjusting his jacket. He took out his handkerchief, dabbing himself off. Everyone else had left except Mick, who was currently humming to himself as he wiped the blood from off the bar. 

Barry's stomach twisted at the sight asking, "What... what did you do." 

"Oh, it was just a finger," Lisa reassured Barry, patting his shoulder. "A pinkie!" 

Barry was horrified, gasping, "A finger...? A fucking finger?" 

Cold scoffed at Barry's reaction, joining Mick at the bar and turning on the sink to clean himself up. He scowled at the blood on his sleeve, sniping, "Should have taken his hand..." 

"There's still time," Mick offered with a grin. 

"Oh, my God," Barry gasped, revulsion rising up to meet the bile dancing in the back of his throat. 

Lisa frowned sympathetically, soothing, "Sweetie. Thawne is bold, and he's not exactly the most loyal Rogue. This was a long time coming. You see, he was the last one to join, and he only did when it was clear Lenny was gonna win. Plus, he-" 

"Lisa," Cold growled in warning, "I think that's enough story time." 

"Oh, yeah?" Lisa hissed, jumping up and whirling around to face her brother. "Hey! How about you tell me a little story? Like why the fuck didn't you tell me what you were up to!" 

"I knew," Mick said with a shrug, chewing on a lemon rind. 

"Not helping!" Lisa shrieked angrily. 

"It was business," Cold said icily, "Nothing for you to worry about." 

"And that's why you let me take him out shopping? Let me think it was cool to hang out with him? Oh, because it's just business?" Lisa snapped, completely fearless as she got right in her brother's face. "What do you really want with Barry?" 

"We have an arrangement," was Cold's calm reply, not moved by his sibling's rage. 

Lisa scoffed disgustedly, her eyes searching his face for some sort of clue. 

"Mr. Allen and I are going to have a little chat about it right now," Cold said, ignoring Mick's loud chuckling and approaching Barry. He offered his hand, pulling him up on unsteady feet. 

Barry was wobbling, but his skin fluttered at the contact. His stomach was beginning to bubble with nervous energy again, biting his lower lip. He had no idea what to expect from Cold now. 

Cold glanced over his shoulder towards his sister, smirking as he added, "Enjoy the rest of the party." 

"Lenny," Lisa said sternly, "We're not done talking about this." 

"Good night, Mick!" Cold called out, ignoring her, curling his arm possessively around Barry's waist as they made to leave.

"Night night! Night, Twig!" Mick replied cheerfully, laughing as Lisa fell into an enraged bout of cursing that would make a sailor blush. 

One of her shoes came flying by, clattering on the floor as she shouted after them, "Not done!" 

"Good night, sweet sister!" Cold called back, leaving her shrieking in rage as he guided Barry towards a large staircase. He looked very pleased with himself, chuckling softly. 

Barry still felt a little dizzy, but strikingly sober as Cold began to lead him upstairs. He tried to push the images of the blood out of his mind, focusing on the sound of his own labored breathing to drown out Thawne's screams. He looked ahead, struggling to pay attention to where Cold was taking him.

They were upstairs and walking into a massive foyer with a small seating area. It was filled with dozens of bags that Barry recognized as the loot from his shopping spree with Lisa. Cold sighed haggardly, clearly annoyed with the number of purchases, but made no comment.

Past the foyer was another den, but there were actually personal touches of the man who lived here. The furniture was more worn and comfortable, ratty old things that most people would have left out on a curb. There was a large record player with an impressive vinyl collection. A few posters and photographs were hung up on the walls, but it was too dark for Barry to make much of anything out. 

Deeper still inside the house they went, Barry now standing within the inner sanctum of Boss Cold's master bedroom. The bed was a massive beast with four posts that reached the ceiling, plush blankets and pillows all perfectly arranged. The furniture in here was more ornate and warm, perhaps antique, though all the colors were still dark shades of blue and brown. 

Barry stood awkwardly, looking around anxiously as Cold turned on a small lamp at the bedside. 

"How long have you known?" Barry asked before even thinking, the words spilling out like a glass of red wine on white carpet. He couldn't take them back now, he had to know, he had to figure out the depth of the mess he had gotten himself into. "How long?" 

Cold pursed his lips thoughtfully, but didn't answer, nodding for Barry to sit down on a small chaise at the foot of the bed. 

"Before or after we had sex?" Barry spat, plopping down on the chaise. 

"Before," Cold replied after a long pause. 

"Why didn't you say anything?" 

"Why didn't you," Cold shot back with all the maturity of a four year old and the indignant pout to match. 

"Hey, I tried! I tried telling you, but you wouldn't let me!" Barry protested, crossing his arms over his chest. "Remember?" 

Cold snorted, moving to a large liquor cabinet and opening it. Inside was a wet bar and a small ice machine. He wrapped a few cubes up in a small towel from the side of the sink, bringing it to Barry and pressing it against his swollen lip. 

Barry winced, but held the ice in place. He didn't know what to expect now. He didn't know if he should be trying to run or begging on his knees. Cold didn't appear to be angry with him, and it wouldn't make much sense to drag him up to his personal bedroom if he was going to kill him.

Cold wordlessly moved back to the bar, pouring himself something dark out of an expensive looking bottle. 

Barry gulped, readjusting the ice on his mouth where it was starting to ache from the cold. He kept waiting for the gangster to speak, but no conversation seemed to be forthcoming. 

Several beats of silence passed before Barry couldn't stand it any longer, asking, "So... was it before the second time? Before the first time?" 

"Mr. Allen? For a moment, pretend that I'm not half as stupid as you seem to think I am," Cold retorted dryly. "I already knew everything about you before I ever stepped foot in your sorry little apartment." 

Barry's heart dropped. 

"But why? I mean, I know I owed you a lot of money, but..." Barry was confused, his eyes narrowing at Cold suspiciously. "Why try to shake me down if you already knew Joe was a cop." 

Cold chuckled over the rim of his glass, shaking his head. "Why indeed." 

Realization punched Barry right in the gut, gasping, "This wasn't about me. This was about getting to him." 

"That was the plan." Cold shrugged, not even having the decency to look like he felt guilty about it. 

"What freakin' plan exactly?" Barry demanded, too angry to worry about pushing the gangster too far. 

"I wanted to make a deal," Cold replied candidly, "Pile on your debt, give you a good scare, send you crying to West. When he came banging at my door, I'd offer to erase your debt in exchange for him backing the fuck off." Cold tilted his head thoughtfully. "But then something happened."

"What?" Barry frowned softly. 

"You," Cold answered simply, his eyes flickering over to settle on Barry's for a long moment. "When Mick threatened you, you didn't squeal for your little cop daddy to come save you. Oh, no. You offered _yourself_ instead. Not what I was expecting, but with an offer like that... who could possibly refuse." 

Barry felt sick, swallowing audibly. "What about Joe?" 

"Why do you think I had you meet me at a very public, very popular hotel," Cold drawled, "And then had you go right to the front desk to get a key? I did everything in order to ensure that West would find out that you were with me. If you wouldn't go to him, I'd make sure he came to me." 

Barry's face felt hot, trying not to get upset. He couldn't believe how he had been played. "That's why you wouldn't let me tell about my family last night," he realized, the pieces slowly beginning to fall into place. "You wanted to keep this stupid charade up." 

"Correct," Cold said with a small tilt of his head. "Mmm. I wasn't expecting Mardon or Thawne to recognize you tonight, though. A rare miscalculation on my part. I knew there was a chance Mardon might, but Thawne-" 

"But why? Why stop me from telling you about Joe?" Barry snapped. 

"Plausible deniability," Cold said with a small shrug. "If you haven't told me that West is your daddy, then you can't upset our arrangement if I have to do something about him later. Killing a cop brings a lot of heat, but I'll do what I have to." 

Barry dropped the ice and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, stunned speechless for a few moments. Killing Joe; Cold was talking about killing him. 

"Kill a cop," Barry repeated quietly, stunned. "You'd kill Joe." 

"I'm not going back to prison, Mr. Allen," Cold replied shortly. 

"So, I'm what," Barry demanded, "Your get out of jail free card?" 

"Mmmhmm," Cold hummed, walking to stand in front of Barry. He looked positively smug, saying, "All I have to do is wait, and Detective West will come." 

"Well," Barry huffed, "I don't think your plan is going to work. Joe already came to me trying to get to you, and I told him I didn't want any fucking help from him." 

"What?" Now it was Cold's turn to be surprised. No, not surprised. Barry had misjudged his expression. He was pissed. 

"Yeah," Barry scoffed in response, not seeing the danger he was in. "He tracked me down over at Maury's, and was asking me about what I was doing with you." 

"And what did you tell him," Cold asked him carefully, his eyes never leaving his. His whole body had become rigid, every muscle tensing as he set his glass aside. 

"What did I tell him?" Barry glared and swallowed back a sob as the memory of the encounter bathed him in frustration, snapping angrily, "I told him to fuck off! Maybe you should have done your research a little better because then you would know that I haven't talked to Joe in years! Oh, but the fucking second he thinks he can use me to get to you-" 

"Barry," Cold warned, bristling with rage. 

"No! Fuck you!" Barry shot back, so furious with the interruption that it didn't even register that Cold had actually used his first name. Tears were running down his face, angrily wiping them off with his sleeve. 

"He just wanted to use me, like you!" Barry ranted on, gasping bitterly, "Some stupid little pawn in your bullshit game! I'm just some _thing_ you both want to use to fuck with each other! You don't fucking care! And he even threatened me-" 

"He threatened you," Cold repeated, his voice strangely calm. His body language shifted, still angry, but now it was focused elsewhere. 

"Yeah, threatened to put the word out that I was a snitch, that I had been talking to the cops if I didn't agree to give him information," Barry sniffed, shaking his head. "He's such a bastard..." 

Cold's face was blank, fingers tapping at rim of his glass as he let Barry talk. 

"You know the last time I called him was asking for money because I was hungry?" Barry cried, frantically wiping at his face. "I was fucking desperate. He wouldn't do it unless I came home and gave up on my Dad." Barry groaned in frustration, trying to stop crying, finally yelling, "You're both assholes. Fuck Joe, and fuck you, too!" 

Barry was sobbing, and his chest was starting to feel tight. He couldn't breathe, the room was beginning to spin again. He could suddenly see flashes of blood, unsure if it was his mother's or Thawne's, and the glitter of a sharp knife was dancing in the air. 

Barry's heart was pounding in his ears, so loud that everything else was drowned out by the terrible throbbing, whimpering. 

God, not again. It was happening again. He was going to pass out. 

Cold lunged forward as if to strike, his hand suddenly at the back of Barry's neck. But he didn't claw or squeeze, his hand was simply there, warm and comforting. 

"Breathe," Cold commanded. 

That voice, that dominant tone. It was like a beacon in the darkness, Barry latching onto it tightly and trying to drag himself out of the panic he had fallen into. 

Barry was trembling, his hands rising up to rest on Cold's hips. He could feel the man's tension beneath his fingers at being touched, but he wasn't being pushed away. Cold's grip at his neck invited Barry closer until he was standing on his feet. 

"Just breathe," Cold commanded again, his voice stern, but his hands were gentle as they slid around to hold Barry's shoulders. 

Barry gasped for air, tears streaming down his face as he fought to suck in precious oxygen. His heart was racing so fast now that it was making his stomach turn, desperately clinging to the front of Cold's suit to hold himself steady. 

"Easy now," Cold purred, his tone softer now, tender as he coaxed him down off the edge of madness. 

Barry sucked in one last shaking breath, his body beginning to settle down slowly. He still had his fingers tangled in Cold's jacket, but he didn't want to let go. "I'm sorry," he said weakly. "It hasn't... that hasn't happened in a long time." 

"Was it the blood?" Cold asked quietly. 

"The knife," Barry said, his eyes closing. "My mother, she was murdered..." He laughed half-heartedly, sighing sadly, "Well, I guess you know all about that, too." 

"Your father is currently serving in Iron Heights for the crime," Cold said flatly. 

"Wrongly convicted," Barry said quickly, always fast to defend Henry. 

"So says every man in prison," Cold tutted. 

Barry shook his head, frowning. "My father really is innocent. I know he didn't kill my mother." 

Cold quirked his brows, his icy eyes ticking over the features of Barry's face carefully. "You really do believe he's innocent. How can you be so sure?" 

"Because I was there," Barry whispered with a shudder, "I saw the whole fucking thing. I saw another man there, the man who killed her, a man who was wearing a yellow coat." 

"You were there," Cold repeated. But it almost sounded like a question. 

"Yes," Barry confirmed miserably, "But no one believed me. Not the cops, not even Joe. That's why we don't talk any more, because he never believed what I saw." 

Cold seemed to be thinking about something, silent for a long moment. "I believe you, Barry." 

"You do?" Barry was doubtful. No one had ever believed him except Maury. 

"Yes, I do," Cold replied softly, "I've been able to survive this long because of my wits and my instincts. I can tell when someone is lying to me. You are not." 

"Well, I appreciate that, actually a lot, but..." Barry hung his head defeatedly. "That doesn't really help get my dad out of prison. That's how I got into so much debt, you know, trying to get his case reopened." 

"It's impressive." 

"What? That I blew that much money with nothing to show for it?" Barry bit out sourly, Cold's previous comment from the other evening still carrying a sting. 

"Your loyalty," Cold corrected, his eyes scanning over Barry's face as his hands began to roam, slowly moving to loosely curl at the base of Barry's neck. "Any man would be lucky to have that kind of devotion..." 

Barry was not expecting that response, his hands coming up to rest on top of Cold's. He could feel Cold flinch when they touched, but he didn't push him away. His eyes fluttered, breathing, "Is that... is that what you want from me?" 

"What do you want, Mr. Allen?" Cold countered, his thumbs gently rubbing over his throat. 

"You," Barry replied immediately, melting into his touch. He guided Cold's fingers to move around his throat just under his jaw, tenderly holding his wrists. It was the same way they had held each other the first time they met in Barry's apartment. 

There was something so intimate about this. Cold literally had Barry's life in his hands if he decided to be cruel, and Barry was totally submissive, offering himself over without question. 

"I know you're just using me," Barry said softly, his voice cracking as he continued, "But... I don't want this to stop." 

"Why?" Cold challenged. 

"Because I'm using you, too," he replied earnestly. He had never felt so wanted or satisfied as he did being in this man's embrace. Nothing had ever soothed him that like beautiful voice, and he wasn't ready to lose it. Not yet. "I like... the things we do." 

Cold's fingers flexed ever so slightly, purring, "Mmm, arrangements like ours have to be built on trust, Mr. Allen." 

"You don't trust me?" Barry frowned. 

"No," Cold replied without hesitation. 

"I trust you," Barry chirped all too quickly. 

"You shouldn't," Cold said flatly. "I'm not a good person. I'm a liar, a thief, and a murderer." 

"I know." 

"And yet you still want to continue our little arrangement?" Cold looked thoughtful, his lips pursing together and a little wrinkle etched his forehead. 

"After some renegotiations, yes," Barry said stubbornly. 

"Oh, really?" Cold scoffed, clearly amused, "And what makes you think I'm going to agree to do that?"

"You want this as much as I do," Barry replied, licking his lips nervously. He had to be right. This had to mean something. "And we both know it's not about the money." 

"What makes you so sure?" Cold taunted. "How do you know I won't get rid of you the second the last penny drops, eh?" 

"I don't," Barry replied with a shrug, "But... we're still talking, aren't we." 

Cold smirked, drawling slowly, "Fine, Mr. Allen. What are your demands?" 

"Don't kill Joe," Barry said, immediately cringing when he saw the instant look of anger and disgust on Cold's face. "He and I don't get along, we probably never will, but please don't hurt him." 

"Mmm, can't promise you that," Cold said with a scowl, "I'm running out of options for a peaceful resolution with Detective West. I doubt you're any good as leverage now." 

"W-why?" 

"If I try to use you now, you may decide to end our little arrangement," Cold said with a roll of his eyes. He hesitated, his expression turning uncharacteristically soft, adding quietly, "And... our deal is important to me." 

"It is?" Barry tried not to sound so hopeful. 

"You do owe me a lot of money," Cold reminded him. 

"Yeah," Barry pouted, wishing Cold would admit there was more than money involved between them. "Half of which is from you charging me some bullshit penalty to screw with me!"

Cold did not look moved by the accusation and he didn't deny it, his eyebrow quirking again as he said, "And?" 

Barry gritted his teeth, trying a new angle. He smiled sweetly, laying it on thick as he said, "Come on. You're Boss Cold. You rule over all of Central City, you're like the most powerful gangster that's ever lived... all those wits and instinct, right? You're clever enough to find another way to get Joe to leave you alone. Without involving me, or hurting anyone else." 

Cold's lip curled into a faint snarl, clearly knowing that Barry was blatantly playing to his ego. It worked, however, finally snapping, "Fine. I will find another way to deal with Detective West... what else?" 

"A job," Barry said quickly. 

"Oh?" Cold actually laughed. "Do you not enjoy your time working for me?" 

"You said yourself you might drop me after I pay you off," Barry said stubbornly, "I need a real job. Something I'll be able to depend on. I have bills to pay, and I still want to help my father." 

Cold's fingers began to move, deftly untying the bow tie around Barry's neck. He dropped it to the floor, slowly unbuttoning Barry's shirt. "I may be able to arrange something... is that all?" 

"Don't lie to me again," Barry said desperately, trying not to get distracted by Cold's nimble touch. "You're right. For this arrangement to work, there has to be trust. I know... what you are. But what you did, using me like that, what you tried to do with Joe... and Lisa, too? You lied to her-" 

"Careful," Cold warned, his amusement faltering in favor of an icy glare. "What I do for my sister is none of your concern." 

"Fine," Barry protested, "But don't... don't lie to me again." He swallowed thickly. "Please." 

"Very well," Cold said, slowly opening up the front of Barry's shirt, gazing over him approvingly. "You should know as long as we're reworking our deal, I have some revisions of my own." 

"And those are?" 

"You may think of Lisa as your friend, but she's my sister," Cold said harshly, "I will do anything to keep her safe, and how I go about it is none of your business. Do not ever question how I treat her again. Are we clear?" 

"Crystal." 

"Secondly, due to your mouthy performance today, I'm going to cut your nightly payments from ten down to five grand," Cold went on, smiling cruelly. 

"But now it will take twice as freakin' long to pay you back!" Barry protested, whining as Cold's fingers began to loosen his belt. 

"Mmm, maybe you should have thought about that before you spoke without permission at the party," Cold chuckled darkly, "I'll still allow you to earn bonuses at my discretion. So, perhaps you should focus more on pleasing me with that mouth instead of running it so much." 

Barry's teeth clicked together before he argued any more, pouting softly. Cold had actually just ensured they had twice the amount of time together. He wasn't really going to complain too much. "Anything else... sir?" 

Cold visibly shivered when Barry addressed him so formally, smirking when his pants dropped down and he was indeed not wearing any underwear. He let his eyes glaze over with lust as he openly admired him, adding nonchalantly, "Oh, just one more thing." 

Barry's cock was twitching in anticipation, his tongue running over his lips eagerly. "Yes?" 

"If Joe West or any of the CCPD approaches you again, you call me immediately," Cold replied, "If I can't use you, neither can they. Trust goes both ways, Mr. Allen." 

"Fine, but, there's, uhm," Barry stammered, embarrassed suddenly. "There's sort of a problem, I can't... it's just that..." 

"What?" Cold groaned, obviously eager to move on to more physical pleasures. 

"I don't have a phone," Barry moaned helplessly. 

Cold huffed, blinking several times in exasperation. "I will get you a fucking phone," he growled, reaching down to start unbuttoning his pants, palming his enormous erection through his underwear. "Now... do we have a deal?" 

"Yes, sir," Barry said, practically salivating at the sight of Cold's cock straining to escape from the tight fabric. 

"Good," Cold purred happily, his fingers grabbing a handful of Barry's hair as he hissed, "Now... on your knees."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my great googly galoshes. I just saw - 300 kudos?! I'm dead. I'm dying. You're all so freakin' amazing. <3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed these last few chapters with all their twists and turns! Next up, the smut fairy returns! I was gonna try to fit it into this chapter, but ugh, not enough lube to make it all fit. HAHAHAHA. Sorry. I think I'm funny sometimes. Anyway!
> 
> Smut comin' up!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Cold have a lovely evening together.

As Barry sunk down to his knees before Cold, he knew he had no reason to trust that the gangster would keep to their new deal. All he could do was hope that he wasn't wrong about the man's affection for him. In the same way he held out hope that his father would be free one day, he had to hope that he could trust Boss Cold. 

Here now before him, genuflecting with his mouth open to take whatever offering Cold would give him, Barry was instantly relieved of all his sorrows. Here he found peace. His anxiety was erased and though the thrum of his blood pumping through his veins was excited, he was calm. 

He was happy. 

Barry had spent so many years alone, giving everything he had to finding a way to free his father. He had nearly starved, been evicted multiple times, and lost more than jobs he could count. One winter he had gotten so sick he thought he had pneumonia, but didn't dare go to the hospital because he knew he wouldn't be able to pay the bill. 

He had cried himself to sleep infinite times, haunted by awful dreams and for being a failure. His only friend was a crusty old loan shark, but even his company was not enough to fill Barry's loneliness. His few romances were brief, always ending in heartache. His partners would always leave him, exhausted by his never ending quest to save Henry. 

At first they'd be supportive, a shoulder to cry on and offering a warm bed to sleep in. However, in their final moments together as the relationship was inevitably crumbling, they all confessed that they thought Barry was nuts. Not a one of his partners had ever truly believed him. 

Except Cold. 

Cold had looked into his eyes and told him he knew he was telling the truth. Barry hadn't had enough time to process the full gravity of how much that meant to him. It was completely and totally validating, a satisfaction he'd never known before. 

If Cold could believe in him, well, Barry had to try and believe in Cold, too. 

Cold had slid his jacket off, and Barry was grateful for the final reminder of the bloody evening to be out of sight. Cold neatly folded it, setting it down on the end of the chaise that sat before the foot of the bed. 

Despite it only being his suit coat, Barry was mesmerized watching Cold undress. He dreamed of the day he would finally see what was underneath all those layers, his eyes taking in every detail that he could. 

The cut of Cold's vest revealed a much leaner form than Barry first thought, though still much broader than his own. The shirt sleeves hugged muscular biceps and strong forearms. 

He watched Cold pulling his thick cock out, giving himself soft strokes, and Barry was consumed with the need to taste him. He had forgotten about his wounded lip, his only thought on swiping his tongue across the head of Cold's cock where he see the faint glimmer of precome already forming. 

Cold canted his hips forward, rubbing his cock against Barry's cheek, drawling, "So hungry for it, aren't you. Open your mouth wider." 

Barry tried, he tried so hard, but the small laceration in his lip wouldn't allow it. He whimpered, trying to force it until he felt the fresh scab starting to crack. 

"Ah, ah," Cold warned, his thumb moving to gingerly glide over the wound, considering his next move carefully. 

"I can take it, sir," Barry pleaded, trying to turn his head and gobble up the tip of Cold's cock. 

Cold seized Barry's hair back in a savage hold, growling, "You take what I give you, Mr. Allen. I think you need a refresher course in how this little arrangements of ours works." 

Barry whined, sullen and pouting, running his tongue over the scab on his lip. Cold's fingers dragging over scalp sent bolts of pleasure all the way down his entire spine, gasping when he abruptly let go. 

Cold tucked himself away, zipping up his pants, but he didn't buckle his belt. He pulled it from the loops, the leather making a delightful sound as it raced against the fabric on its way to freedom. Cold curled it up tight in his hands, dropping down on the chaise behind Barry with a faint growl. "Come here." 

Barry whirled around, still bent on one knee as he watched Cold pointing at his thigh, beckoning him over his lap. 

Barry started to shrug off his clothes, his shirt and jacket still on, but Cold suddenly snapped the belt at his bare hip. 

"Leave those on," Cold snapped, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Shoes, too." 

Barry nodded, immediately noticing that the bite of the belt was much sharper than Cold's hand and lingered much longer. He moved to lay himself across his lap, blushing down to his neck being so exposed. 

Cold ran his hand over Barry's lower back, sliding down to squeeze his cheeks and lewdly run a dry finger in between them. "Now, Mr. Allen... do you understand why you're being punished?" 

"I wasn't listening?" Barry suggested, wiggling around as he tried to find a comfortable position. His legs were so long they dangled awkwardly onto the floor, just able to touch the floor with his toes. He could keep his head up for now, glancing over his shoulder to peer up at Cold. 

"Mmmm, that's part of it," Cold replied, "I value obedience very much, but you're already hurt and my intention is never to damage you. That's much more important, don't you think?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Now, hold very still for me..." 

Barry froze, his breath getting stuck in his throat when he felt the cool leather of the belt teasing over his cheeks. He tried to relax, tried not to move, but the first crack of the belt made him jump and cry out. 

Cold's hand was right there, smoothing across the welt he'd left behind. "You did well... four more, and maybe that'll be enough for you to learn, hmmm?" 

"God... yes. Yes, sir," Barry panted. 

"Good boy," Cold praised, his hand moving away, the belt snapping against Barry's flesh in its place. 

Barry yelped, whining pitifully. It felt like Cold had somehow managed to hit the exact same spot, a scorching line of pain lighting up across his ass. "Fuck," he whimpered, his head feeling too heavy to hold up now. 

The third pop made Barry moan, the burning sensation sending all sorts of mixed signals between his legs. His cock was aching, grinding into Cold's thigh, trying to find some relief from the intense sensation. 

Cold's reverently petted Barry's welted cheeks, dipping his finger in his mouth before sliding it teasingly over his hole. "Just two more, Mr. Allen," he said. 

The fourth strike made Barry cry out again, sweat starting to erupt all along his back and face. It was too much, too hot, groaning as his head fell down in utter submission. The pain was buzzing all over, his head light but happy, mewling softly as Cold's finger slipped inside of him again. 

"You have the most perfect little asshole," Cold complimented, spitting on his fingers before returning to play with edge of his hole. "And it's all mine..." 

Barry blushed, agreeing softly, "Yours." 

"For the duration of this arrangement, no one else will have you," Cold said, a possessive growl rasping his usually smooth voice. "Do you understand me, Mr. Allen?" 

Barry hesitated, blinking stupidly as he struggled to lift his head back up to stare at Cold. Was Cold actually telling him they were going to be exclusive. "And you'll be mine?" 

Cold sneered, a single finger pushing inside deep enough to make Barry whimper. "I'm not the one who offered up their body for money, Mr. Allen. You did. Until the debt is paid, every inch of you belongs to me. I, however, am a free man, and I will do as I please." 

Barry whined, needy and upset. It wasn't that he desired to be with anyone else; it was quite the opposite. He didn't want anyone but Cold, and the mere thought of him being with another person stabbed Barry right in the chest with a wicked prick of envy that threatened to poison his good mood. 

"That's not fair," Barry protested, yelping loudly as Cold cracked the belt over his stinging ass once more. "F-fuck," he stuttered, tears welling up in his eyes. He went limp in Cold's lap, the only tension left in his body curling his hands into tight fists. 

"Our arrangement is more than fair. Any whore would consider themselves lucky to be paid like you are," Cold scoffed. 

"Yes, sir," Barry uttering the words as if they were a curse. There was something about that word that invoked a deep sense of shame and anger, but it also made his loins ache. 

"Mmmm, that's a good little whore," Cold taunted. 

"Yes, sir," Barry seethed, his cock grinding into Cold's leg, hating how good it felt. Cold's hands glided over his stinging ass, eliciting a soft moan. 

"Take off your clothes now, shoes as well," Cold ordered abruptly. "Get up on the bed." 

Barry expected him to shove him off his lap onto the floor, but Cold was helping him, guiding him onto the mattress and divesting him of his clothes. He picked everything up, nearly folding them and placing them on the chaise. 

Cold sighed contently, his eyes hungrily moving over Barry's lean body. 

Barry blushed from the intense gaze, his cock bobbing between his legs as he stretched out across the bed before Cold. 

"Hands and knees now, scoot back just until you're about to fall off," Cold instructed, purring pleasurably as Barry quickly complied. He traced his fingers across the welt marks he'd left on Barry's cheeks, proudly touching each one individually. 

Barry bowed his head down, keeping his ass up, trying to contain his emotions. Today was too much, too fast, focusing on Cold's voice to keep him from sinking back down into the abyss. 

Cold did care for him, he was certain; and he had about two months now to prove it. 

Barry heard Cold tinkering around in a drawer, a lid snapping open and the distinct squirt of something wet. He gasped when he felt Cold's fingers sliding around his cock, praying for more friction but receiving none. 

"Hold still," Cold warned, his dexterous fingers winding something around the base of Barry's cock and starting to slip behind his balls. 

Barry resisted to urge to wiggle at the new sensation, ducking his head down to peer down between his legs to see what Cold was doing. 

It was a thin leather band, twitching when he heard a distinct click of a button snapping and felt immediate pressure around his genitals. God, a cock ring. Cold was putting a fucking cock ring on him. 

The rest of the snaps clicked into place, Cold's fingers sliding around the test the fit, purring approvingly, "Nice and snug..." He paused, asking, "Not too tight?" 

"No, sir." Barry was confused. He had used a cock ring before when he was feeling super daring with an ex-girlfriend from college. It was one that had a little vibrating bit on it. But he only wore it around his cock, certainly not his balls, too. He was also completely mystified as to why he was wearing it when Cold was clearly intent on being the one fucking him. 

Cold seemed to sense Barry's apprehension, explaining, "This will keep you nice and hard, but you won't come... You're not going to come until I think you've earned it." 

Barry nodded, swallowing audibly. His cock was beyond hard right at that moment, surprised how quickly all the blood began pooling there. He was certain he could etch glass with the tip of his dick. His balls felt tighter, too, groaning as Cold's hand palmed them gently. 

"But when you do, it will be very, very intense," Cold assured him, his hand moving to grab more lubricant judging by the familiar squelching sound. 

He expected Len's cock to start filling him up, but instead he felt the cool sensation of silicone probing his hole. A dildo, not as thick as Cold's cock, was still enough to make him gasp as it started pushing inside him. 

Cold squeezed his stinging cheek, carefully thrusting the toy in and out, going deeper every time. "Look at how beautifully you're opening up," he praised, "You're taking it so well." 

Barry arched his back, gasping faster and faster as Cold fucked him. The toy wasn't as thick as Cold's cock, but it was definitely longer, groaning as his body worked to adjust to the additional length. Cold's soothing praise was a warm blanket wrapping him up tight, comforting and momentarily distracting him from his own throbbing erection. 

Cold kept moving the toy, and reached down to stroke his fingers along the shaft of Barry's member, purring delightfully, "Why, Mr. Allen, you are positively _dripping_." 

Barry whimpered, embarrassed at how slick he was as Cold's fingers teased at his cock. He was so wet, Cold stroking him with feather light touches that made Barry want to scream for release. 

"Please," Barry implored, trying to rock his hips down into Cold's hand, gasping as he thrusted the toy a little harder. 

"Please, what?" Cold asked expectantly. 

"Please... I need... I need more, sir," Barry cried, fingers tugging at the blankets beneath him. 

Cold squeezed Barry's hip affectionately, slowly withdrawing the toy and testing his hole with his fingers, stretching his rim. "Mmm, are you ready for me?" 

"Yes, sir," Barry replied eagerly, shifting his knees and spreading his legs invitingly. 

Cold grinned, quickly rolling on a condom and grabbing more lube, positioning the head of his cock at Barry's hole. He rested his hands on Barry's hips, slowly pushing forward. 

Barry groaned, the sound stuttering in his throat as his body stretched to take on Cold's impressive girth. He was preparing himself for Cold to start fucking him, waiting for the brutal slams to get going as they always had before, but it didn't come. 

Cold's hands were rubbing Barry's raw cheeks, his cock sliding in and out with purpose, but patiently. 

Barry was moaning, left gasping with each thrust. He felt so full, and Cold was grazing his prostate, just enough to make him squirm and make his cock shiver. The ring wasn't uncomfortable, not yet, but his balls felt tight, and his cock was insanely sensitive. 

Sex had always been good with Cold, but this was incredible. He was moving so tenderly, squeezing Barry's hips and guiding him back to make the most of every thrust. Barry was crumbling into the mattress, moaning desperately as Cold sweetly wrecked him. 

Cold's hands were all over him, caressing his sides, grabbing onto his shoulders as he rocked their bodies together. Barry's head was tipped back, his mouth hanging open in a blissful smile. It was heaven. 

But the tension in his balls was becoming uncomfortable, the pressure nearing overwhelming. He felt frantic, unsure what to do. He didn't want to use the safe word because it did feel so good. But fuck, it was almost too much, finally moaning, "Sir, I need to... I need to come." 

"Yes. You've been such a very good boy for me," Cold growled, his voice rough with lust. He never stopped moving his hips, skilled fingers quickly unsnapping the ring and grabbing Barry's cock. 

Barry shouted, every nerve instantly on fire and crying out as Cold stroked him. He was too sensitive, writhing in protest. He could feel all the blood rushing back between his legs, and two, maybe three quick jerks of Cold's hand and he was coming. It was like being tipped over a waterfall, his stomach dropping as his cock pulsed repeatedly. 

"Oh, God, ohhhh, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Barry wailed, every muscle in his body twitching with pleasure as he came. He heard Cold grunt as his ass clenched down on his cock, fucking him through it until Barry swore his bones had all been replaced with spaghetti. 

Barry's cock was still tingling when Cold pulled out, one last moan making his lower lip tremble. He wanted to plop face first into the mattress, utterly exhausted, but Cold hadn't finished yet. 

"Turn around," Cold grunted urgently. 

Barry tried to move as best as he could, his body sweetly aching as he shifted positions. Cold had taken off the condom and his cock was right there in his face, his hand frantically jacking himself off and aiming right at Barry's mouth. 

"Yes?" Cold asked, his ministrations slowing until Barry replied. 

"Fuck, yes," Barry panted, sticking out his tongue to welcome the load. 

Cold's lips twitched up in a smile, grunting, "Good boy..." He kept stroking his cock, groaning low as he came a few moments later, hot come splattering across Barry's tongue. 

Barry lapped it up, swallowing every drop eagerly, savoring the warmth and the taste. There was one errant shot that had grazed his cheek, trying to stick out his tongue to get it. 

Cold tenderly wiped it off his face, offering it to Barry. "A very, very good boy," he confirmed, practically purring like a house cat when Barry greedily licked the come off his fingers. 

Barry beamed proudly, murmuring contently when Cold gently touched his face. "I was good?" 

"Very fuckin' good," Cold sighed, his hand softly curling around Barry's neck, his thumb stroking along his jaw. 

Barry sighed, leaning into Cold's grip and his fingers rose up to hold his wrist. His stomach was fluttering from the praise, gently petting the underside of Cold's wrist. 

Cold hadn't flinched away yet, Barry trying to hold onto this tender connection for as long as he could. 

"Now. Let's get you cleaned up," Cold said with a smirk, ending it all too soon, pulling away and adjusting himself. He straightened his vest, offering a hand to help Barry up to his feet. 

Barry's muscles were the consistency of Jell-O, and he was very grateful to have Cold assist him. He loved how Cold's hand felt in his, daring to give it a small squeeze. He wanted to tell Cold to go get a bowl to carry him in because he was about to melt from all the attention. Cold's arm felt so strong around him, guiding him into the bathroom. 

It was the size of Barry's apartment, black tile and stainless steel with a monstrous tub and a stand up shower that a small group of people could have fit in. 

The only light came from a series of small bulbs lining the edges of the mirrors hanging over the dual vanity sink. Barry was grateful for the calming atmosphere as Cold got him into the shower. 

"Get washed up, and come to bed," Cold instructed softly and left him to bathe by himself. Barry groaned happily as the hot water poured over him, leaning against the cool tile. He winced as he washed his body, his cheeks still a bit tender. He lingered for a long while, singing to himself as he enjoyed the steam billowing up around him. 

Barry had lost track of the time, sang through at least three or four songs. He finally gave up the hot water, sticking his head out to find a thick black robe and a few towels now waiting for him by the sink. He blushed softly, realizing Cold had probably heard him singing. 

He quickly got dried off, wrapping himself up in the plush robe and scurrying back into the bedroom. He could hear music playing softly from the other room, curiosity making him pause. 

Barry wanted to see what Cold was doing, but he had told him to go to bed. 

Didn't mean he couldn't sneak a peek on his way to bed, right? 

Barry tiptoed over to peer through the open doorway, spying Cold sitting down in a worn recliner. The music was coming from his record player, a warm and soothing jazz tune. Barry didn't recognize the singer, but she had a beautiful voice. 

Cold didn't strike him as a jazz kind of guy, and it was a pleasant surprise. He knew so little about Cold other than his nasty reputation and what Lisa had told him. Cold was clearly not someone that was easy to get close to, but Barry was stubborn. He wanted to know everything about him, good and bad, and everything in between. 

Barry quickly hurried back to bed before Cold noticed him spying, diving right into the middle of the mattress. He spread himself out, wiggling around and working his body under the covers. 

He made a small nest out of the pillows, yawning as he tried to drift off to sleep. Even though his body was drained, his mind was wide awake and aflutter with a constant train of thought he couldn't derail. He tried listening to Cold's music to distract himself, but Cold only listened to a few more songs before turning the player off. 

Barry heard him come back into the bedroom and turn off all the lights, heading to the bathroom and locking the door. Cold showered briefly and returned to bed, smelling of fresh soap and shampoo, easing into the bed beside Barry. 

Barry was still awake, but he was too tired to acknowledge Cold's presence. His heart did a few somersaults feeling Cold slowly scoot up right beside him. Their bodies didn't make contact, but Cold was close, so close that Barry could feel his warm breath tickling his face. 

Could Cold tell he wasn't asleep. It was dark, perhaps he wasn't sure. Barry didn't want to disturb this moment, waiting to see what Cold would do. He remained as still as he could, his eyes closed tight. 

Cold made a small sound, almost a laugh, and his lips tenderly pressed to Barry's cheek. It was a gentle kiss, sweet and warm, lingering for a moment. 

Barry couldn't help but let a small murmur escape at the unexpected affection, overcome with bliss. He tried to remain calm, not wanting to give himself away. 

Cold had kissed him. He had freakin' kissed him. Sure, it was only his cheek, and it was probably because he thought Barry was asleep- 

"Good night, Mr. Allen," Cold said softly, ever so smug. Barry could _hear_ him smirking. He knew. 

Busted. 

"Uhhh... good night," Barry stammered, grinning wide. His cheeks were hot, his heart hammering excitedly in his chest. 

Cold chuckled lightly, rolling over away from him and getting settled. "Get some sleep," he said, "You've more than earned it." 

Barry was beaming, grinning like an absolute fool. Cold did care about him. It wasn't the arrangement he was so concerned with, it was Barry that he wanted to hold onto. After all, why else cut his nightly payments except to extend their time together. 

Why take such good care of him, why _freakin'_ kiss him. 

Barry didn't know how long it took him to finally doze off after that, but he dreamed of warm snuggles and a hand resting on his arm. He woke up, groggy and confused. There was indeed something warm next to him. It was Cold. 

At some point in the night, Barry had cuddled right up to him. Their legs were tangled together and Barry's arm was thrown over his chest, fingers curled in the fabric of his pajamas. Cold was stretched out on his back, and his hand was lightly resting on Barry's forearm. 

Cold had made no effort to move him, letting him snuggle all he wanted. Barry smiled, nuzzling his cheek against Cold's shoulder and falling right back asleep. 

When he woke up again, Cold was gone and sunlight was peeking in through the heavy curtain. Barry flailed around for a few more minutes, yawning as he finally made himself sat up. 

There was no sign of Cold. 

Barry sighed, starting to get used to waking up alone. He saw there was a small box and a note sitting on the bedside table. 

He picked up the note first, smiling when he saw Cold's familiar handwriting. 

_You start your new job today. Lisa will drive you. Be at work by 12:00. Do not be late._

_Be back here tonight at midnight._

_LS_

Barry grinned, popping open the box and finding inside a brand new smartphone. It had a shiny red case, and there was a sticky note with the password stuck on the back. He fiddled with the phone, seeing there was already one entry listed under the contacts section. 

It didn't have a name, only a snowflake emoji. 

Cute. 

Barry smirked. He tapped the screen until he figured out how to get to the keypad. He already knew the first person he was going to call. 

"Martine's Pawn, whadya' fuckin' want?" A gruff voice demanded. 

"Maury! It's me! Barry!" he exclaimed excitedly. 

"Barry! Hey! How the fuck are ya'?" Maurice's tone instantly softened, laughing, "Where you been? Stopped by your place last night, ya' wasn't there." 

"Oh, Maury," Barry sighed, chuckling as he raked a hand through his hair. "You are never going to believe where I am right now." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! The smut fairy visited us! Thanks, smut fairy! Enjoy the porn, back to the plot next chapter! <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Lisa go visit Maury.

"Why wouldn't I fuckin' believe you? You ain't never lied to me, kid," Maurice said, his voice sounding incredibly distressed over the phone. "Come on." 

"No! I just mean, it's, it's so crazy," Barry laughed. "I'm at Cold's ridiculous freakin' mansion. I think he likes me? Like, _like_ likes me? I mean, he cut somebody's finger off for touching me which is super sick, but I guess he meant it, well, in a nice gangster way-" 

"Huh?" Maurice was stunned. 

"Oh! Right! So, apparently Cold was just using me to try and get to Joe because of this whole Dickie White thing, but we made a new deal! It's okay! And God, I had crazy panic attacks for the first time in years-" 

"Barry, motherfucker, slow the hell down!" Maurice pleaded, cackling, "For fuck's sake, kid. Take a breath." 

Barry took a deep breath as instructed, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, Maury," he gushed, a swarm of rapid butterflies invading his entire digestive system. "I think I'm starting to fall-" 

"Fuck, don't you say it, don't you fuckin' say it!" Maurice wailed, "Fuck! Kid! Dick and heart, remember? You're gettin' them all mixed up!" 

"But my heart's bigger than my dick!" Barry protested, frowning when he realized how terrible that sounded. "I meant... uhm." 

Maury paused, saying quietly, "I wouldn't go around advertisin' that, kid." 

"That came out wrong." 

"Ya' think?" Maurice snorted. He groaned irritably, sighing, "Get your ass down here so I can talk some fuckin' sense into you. I still got-" 

"Still got the crowbar, I know," Barry finished for him, very familiar with this threat. "Look, I know it's totally nuts, and maybe I am nuts, but-" 

"Bartholomew motherfuckin' Henry Allen, I swear to fuckin' Christ-" 

"He believes me, Maury," Barry said quietly. He didn't need to raise his voice. He knew that Maurice would understand exactly what he meant and the weight that such a thing carried. 

"Well, fuck, kid," Maury sighed. There was a long pause. "Look, we'll talks about it, okay? Come on down to the shop." 

"Ohh, Barry!" The familiar voice of Lisa Snart sang out, knuckles wrapping at the door. "Are you decent?" 

"I'll try," Barry said quickly to Maury, calling out, "Yup! One sec!" He turned his attention back to Maurice, saying, "I'll try to come by soon, okay?"

"I love you, ya' fuckin' idiot." 

"Love you, too," Barry said with a smile, waving at Lisa as she came sauntering in. 

"Awww, who was that?" Lisa purred, pouting dramatically. "Not anybody I gotta worry about, eh?"

Barry shook his head, laughing, "God, no. It was Maury." 

"Maury the Mouth?" 

"Yeah," Barry said, shrugging softly. "We're... close. He's kinda like a dad to me... It's, well, it's a long story." 

Lisa came over and bounced on the edge of the edge of the bed, gushing, "Oh, I love long stories!" 

Barry glanced at his phone. It was already after ten o'clock. He was surprised he had slept so late. He smirked at Lisa, teasing, "I think I'm supposed to be getting ready for work soon?" 

Lisa waved her hand, snorting, "Pffft! Whatever."

Barry frowned, saying, "Cold said not to be late..." 

"Uh, he got you a job working for me," Lisa said with a dramatic roll of her eyes and glancing at her nails. "We'll show up whenever the hell we want." 

"For you?" Barry was surprised. 

"At my club," Lisa said proudly, pausing to reconsider. "Well, it's really Lenny's club, but he lets me run it. La Belle downtown? Ever hear of it?" 

"Wow, yeah!" Barry had certainly heard of it. It was a popular piano bar housed in a renovated theater. He had seen the marquis lights all of his life, and he was excited to know he would be working at a place he had always admired. "Wait, what am I gonna be doing exactly?" 

Lisa shrugged, asking flatly, "I dunno. What are you good at?" 

"Uh..." Barry made a face, mentally reviewing his random resume of the many careers he'd had over the years. He sighed, admittedly mournfully, "Losing jobs." 

"Okay. We'll find something nice and easy for you," Lisa giggled, patting his feet playfully. "Now, come on! Get some damn clothes on! We'll grab breakfast, and you can tell me how a sweet little thing like you got tangled up with Maury the fuckin' Mouth!"

Barry grinned, waiting for Lisa to go downstairs so he could poke through his purchases to find something to wear. He had no idea what kind of work Lisa was going to choose for him, opting for an outfit that was somewhere in between dressy and casual. Jeans, vintage sneakers, t-shirt, with a red plaid button up.

He fixed his hair, mourning the absence of his toothbrush but managed to find some mouthwash. He got his wallet and keys, nearly forgetting his new phone before he hurried downstairs to find Lisa. 

Barry nearly got lost trying to figure out where she was, finding her in a beautiful kitchen appointed with stainless steel appliances and marble counter tops. She was sitting at a center island outfitted with a stovetop where a very tall and slim man was scrambling eggs. There was a large pitcher filled with something slushy and orange, and Lisa was already pouring two drinks.

"Awww, look at you, pretty!" Lisa teased, whistling and offering out one of the drinks towards him.

"Thanks! Eh, isn't it a little early?" Barry laughed, realizing that there was definitely a lot of alcohol in the mix. 

"Nah," Lisa argued, "They're mimosas! They have vitamin C, it's good for you. Barry, meet Jerry." She gestured to the tall gentleman. "Jerry, this is Barry." 

Barry recognized him as their limo driver from yesterday, waving with a little smile. "Good morning!" 

"Bonjour," Jerry greeted in a deep, rough French accent, smiling politely as he began to plate the eggs. 

Lisa patted the seat next to her, Barry joining her and sipping at his drink. "So, are you serious about maybe not exactly being at the club by noon?" 

"Mmm, whyyy?" Lisa asked, grinning playfully.

"Would it be okay if we made a few stops?" Barry asked shyly. 

"Like what?" 

"Well, I guess I need to get all those clothes back to my place, right? And Maury wants to see me-" 

"Give me your keys," Lisa said abruptly, wiggling her fingers at him.

Barry frowned, but reached into his pocket and offered out his key ring. Lisa took it and smiled sweetly at Jerry, saying, "Hey, Jerry? Could you be a dear and get somebody to take Barry's stuff back to his place? Maybe wash it, hang it up and stuff, too?"

"Of course, Miss Snart," Jerry said, nodding as he accepted the keys and tucked them in his pocket. 

"Holy crap," Barry exclaimed, blushing wildly. "You guys really don't have to do all that!"

"Barry, your apartment is really depressing," Lisa sighed dramatically, "I don't wanna go back there. I'll be honest. Unless it's to burn all your old clothes. Then maybe."

"It is no problem, monsieur," Jerry assured him, smiling warmly as he offered them each a plate of eggs and fresh fruit. "You're the Snarts' guest, it's our pleasure." 

"Jerry, baby, you're amazing," Lisa gushed, blowing him bunches of kisses and eagerly digging in. In between bites, her eyes danced over to Barry. "Mmm, where else did you want to go?" 

"I really wanted to go see Maury," Barry said, moaning happily as he ate. Holy crap, they were the most amazing eggs he had ever tasted. Jerry was indeed amazing. 

"How did you meet Maury?" Lisa asked curiously, her brows quirking up. "Come on. It's story time." 

"It's all because of the phone company," Barry explained, smiling fondly. "See, it started when my mom used to work in the jewelry store next to the pawn shop. She worked there a few days a week, you know, cleaning jewelry and doing repairs. The phone in the store kept going out, like all the time! The phone company kept fixing it, and it would still go out, like at least once a week!" 

Barry's face was lit up like a Christmas tree, always happy to share memories of his mom, excitedly continuing, "So, she kept going over to Maury's to use the phone to call home. Don't let him fool you, he's a sucker for a damsel in distress. He let her come over to call home and soon, they became friends. Maury always told her dirty jokes, loved to make her blush, and then she introduced my Dad. He's a doctor, you see, and he's been taking care of Maury's kids since before I was even born."

Lisa was listening, completely enraptured. The way Barry was smiling right now was so sweet and bright. She hadn't seen him this happy except when he spoke of her brother.

"Maury has three sons, and the two youngest were always getting sick," Barry went on, "Especially Junior, he had really bad asthma. They couldn't afford to go see a doctor or any of the medication, so my Dad would sneak it over to the shop with my mom. Said it was payment for letting her use the phone." 

Then the light dimmed. 

"It's just... the day she died," Barry said absently, his mind starting to wander briefly, "The phone..." He thought of Cold's voice, purring seductively in his ear, snapping out of it and smiling happily again. "Anyway! Sorry. So, yeah. When I finally turned eighteen and got away from you know who, Maury was the first person I ran to."

"You mean Detective West," Lisa said with a thoughtful bite of egg.

"Yeah," Barry said sullenly, "He... well, I guess you know now. We haven't talked... in a very long time." 

"Come on, sweetie," Lisa soothed, patting Barry's arm gently, "You can give me all the dirty details on the way." She guzzled her drink, picking up the pitcher and her giant purse from the floor with a grin. "Jerry, we are ready!" 

Barry struggled to grab his last few bite of eggs, Lisa already dragging him towards the front door. On the way to the pawn shop, Barry spilled his guts. He told Lisa about all the fights, Joe trying to keep him from seeing Henry, and his staunch refusal to believe that he might actually be innocent. 

"And you saw it?" Lisa said quietly when Barry had finished, still a few blocks away from their destination. 

"Yeah," Barry said with a sad smile, rubbing his hand through his hair. She didn't have to specify what 'it' she was referring to. 

"And Joe thinks, what? You imagined it?" Lisa looked angry for a second, visibly trying to calm herself down. She was clearly not a big fan of Joe, and this only solidified her already unfavorable opinion. She emptied the last of the pitcher into her glass, sucking down a big gulp. 

"I guess," he replied. "He would never say why he was so convinced, he just said he knew Henry did it. He kept saying that there was never anyone else there. But I know I saw the Man in Yellow. I saw what he did." 

Lisa quirked her eyebrow at the name. 

"He was wearing a yellow coat," Barry explained, "That's all I can remember now. I think maybe I used to be able to see his face? But not any more. I guess it's been too long." 

"I'm really sorry," Lisa said, reaching out to gingerly touch Barry's knee. "Joe West is a fuckin' dick." 

"Yeah," Barry mused quietly, "I think he thought he was helping? But, I just wish he believed me. Maury is the only one who does." He couldn't help but smile now, his cheeks warming up. "Well, and your brother." 

Lisa grinned at that, teasing, "Oh, I bet he does! And hey, I believe you, too." She squeezed Barry's knee, saying, "I hope you know I still want to be friends." 

"You're not mad about the whole my adopted dad is a cop trying to arrest your brother?" Barry asked dubiously. 

"Why would I be? It's not your fault he's a prick," Lisa snorted, "I mean, I wish you had said something, but-" 

"I tried telling your brother!" Barry pouted.

"Hey, hey," Lisa soothed, taking another sip of her drink and shaking her head. "It's okay. We all have dirty little secrets, Barry. Me, you, Lenny, even that bastard Joe West." 

It was hard to imagine Joe with any dirty secrets, but Barry nodded all the same. He smiled as the limo pulled up in front of the pawn shop, exclaiming, "Hey! We're here!" 

Lisa exited the limo gracefully with Jerry's assistance, smiling sweetly. She still moved effortlessly despite having downed an entire pitcher of mimosas nearly by herself, heels clicking against the sidewalk as she approached the door of the shop. 

Barry followed, opening the door for her and hurrying inside. He grinned, calling out, "Hey Maury! It's me! I got somebody-" 

"You fuckin' dumbass! I shoulda never told you none of that fuckin' shit!" Maury was raging from somewhere in the back. "I told you, I fuckin' told yous not to get all mixed up, and what d'ya do? You go and try to fall in love with a fuckin' gangster!"

"Maury!" Barry protested, blushing immediately. 

Lisa grinned savagely as she leaned across the counter, not saying a word, clearly pleased that she was privy to this conversation. 

"And not just any gangster, but fuckin' Boss Cold! Fuckin' Leonard Snart! Come on, kid. This was about you gettin' your shit handled and not endin' up in a damn coffin!" Maury continued to shout, starting to shuffled towards the counter. "You fuckin' stupid, scrawny..." 

Maurice finally appeared, trailing off when he saw that Barry wasn't alone. 

"You must be Maury the Mouth," she greeted cheerfully, "A living legend, here in the flesh." 

"You're Lisa fuckin' Snart," Maury said, gawking stupidly. He took off his hat, smoothing his hair back and he actually smiled like a shy little boy. "Ma'am, can I just say your mugshots don't do no fuckin' favors, 'cause you are a stone cold fuckin' fox."

Lisa giggled, completely charmed and winking slyly. "Aren't you just a doll," she cooed, reaching out and stroking her hand across Maurice's cheek. 

Maurice blushed. 

Maury the Mouth was blushing and stammering, trying to reply, "Eh, wow, yeah." 

Barry was amazed, grinning at the ridiculous sight of seeing his friend so clearly smitten. 

"Maurice Martine," Maurice said, eagerly taking Lisa's hand and pressing a gentle kiss upon it, "An absolute pleasure." 

"The pleasure is all mine," she cooed, chuckling lightly. "Mmm, now, what was that you were saying about Barry falling in love with a gangster? And how stupid that was?"

"Sorry, Miss Snart," Maurice replied, not afraid to pull any punches, "Your brother is a ruthless prick, and I'm sure you understand my concerns with young Barry here gettin' mixed up with him beyond the terms of their, eh, their arrangement." 

"Oh, indeed he is," Lisa laughed, surprising Barry with how well she took Maury insulting Cold. "But I can tell you that he is very sweet on Barry. I think they're going to be just fine together." 

"And I tells you that I still ain't too old to bust some kneecaps with a crowbar," Maurice threw back, grinning. "You tell that brother of yours I don't care who he is. It's one thing to fuck Barry, but he better not break his fuckin' heart. Everybody's bones crack if ya' bash 'em hard enough."

"Oooo, is that a threat?" Lisa giggled. 

"A promise, ma'am," Maurice replied cordially, tipping his hat. 

"I like him," Lisa said with a big smile, nudging Barry playfully. 

Barry was dazed by this collision of worlds before him, but he was laughing with them both. Maury's concern was sweet, as was Lisa's continued insistence that Cold cared for him. Lisa's personality was so warm and lovely, even Maurice couldn't resist her. He listened to them chat lightly, starting to drift off. 

He thought about what Maurice had said; about Cold breaking his heart.

No, that wasn't going to happen. 

Cold did care about him, even if he didn't say it. Lisa was convinced of it, and Barry had definitely not forgotten that sweet kiss from last night. He had to believe there was going to be a happy ending. 

"So, this is where everything in your apartment ended up?" Lisa asked with a wink. 

"Oh, yeah," Barry answered, coming back to the conversation. "That's my tv over there. My microwave, my DVD's, my DVD player, ehhhh. Pretty much hocked everything I had." He laughed sadly, adding, "All of my mom's jewelry." 

"You pawned your mother's jewelry?" Lisa asked with a little frown. 

"Yeah," Barry nodded, sighing miserably, "Needed to eat." 

"Hey, now," Maurice protested, "I held onto it all. And I swears I woulda never sold anything of Nora's. Was just hangin' on to it until Barry got back on his feet. I ain't even charging interest!" 

Barry smiled softly, saying, "I know. And one day, I'll get it all back."

"How much is it in hock for?" Lisa asked. 

"Fifteen big," Maurice replied, his bushy brows furrowing together.

"Hmmm," Lisa hummed, digging around in her purse. She smiled sweetly, batting her eyes seductively. "How about ten in cash, right now?" 

"Lisa," Barry protested, shaking his head. He couldn't believe anyone carried around that much money, equally amazed at Lisa's endless generosity. "I can't let you do that, please. That's, that's really nice of you-" 

"Barry Allen," she said cooly, "I do what I want." Her eyes flicked to Maurice, smiling prettily. "Deal?" 

"Deal," Maurice said with a toothy grin. He happily accepted a thick stack of cash, thumbing through it and counting it with quick fingers.

Barry stared incredulously at Lisa's large and seemingly magical purse, wondering what else she kept in there. She could pull out a toaster oven or a bazooka. and he wouldn't be that surprised.

"I'll be right back," Maurice said, taking the cash with him and disappearing into the back of the store. 

"Thank you," Barry said, beaming gratefully at Lisa. "I'll find a way to pay you back. Really." 

"Keep making my brother happy," Lisa said with a warm smile, "And we'll call it even." 

"I... I'll try." Barry blushed. 

Maurice returned, setting a small jewelry box on the counter. It was round, white porcelain with red roses painted on the lid. "Go on," he urged, smiling softly. "It's all yours, kid." 

Barry eagerly took the jewelry box, sliding his hands around it. He could remember it sitting on top of his mother's dresser, watching her dip into it to get ready to go off to work or sometimes dressing up for date night with his dad. 

His memories of her were fading as the years went by, trying so desperately to cling to every last one. This little jewelry box was treasure, not just for what it held, but the memories it carried. He smiled at Lisa, his eyes wet, saying softly, "Thank you. Really."

Lisa kissed his cheek with a loud smooching sound, sighing, "Awww, come on. Don't get all mushy on me. Better make sure it's all there." She cast a teasing glare at Maurice, accusing playfully, "Can't trust people nowadays." 

Maurice rolled his eyes, and Barry laughed, lifting up the lid. There was a string of pearls, his parents' wedding rings, and an assortment of costume jewelry. He picked up every piece, admiring each one. 

Lisa looked skeptical, eyeing Maurice. Other than the pearls and perhaps the diamond engagement ring, there didn't appear to be very much of value. "You seriously let Barry pawn all of this for fifteen grand?" 

"Hey, that one ring in there is worth twice that," Maurice scoffed. "I ain't gonna do Barry like that."

Barry frowned, asking, "What ring?" 

Maurice poked in the jewelry box, picking up a tarnished gold ring with a large red gemstone. It was a man's ring, thick and intricately detailed. There was dirt and grime crusted all in the detailed carvings, and Barry couldn't quite make out what they were. 

"That is a two carat ruby," Maury said with a laugh, "Thirty large, easy." 

Barry didn't remember this particular ring, puzzled slightly. Maybe it had belonged to a grandfather or a great uncle. He passed it over to Lisa for inspection. 

"Oh! It's engraved," Lisa purred excitedly, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make it out. "Looks like initials. LS. Ooo, for Lisa Snart!" She giggled, handing the ring back over to Barry. 

He laughed, putting the ring back in the jewelry box. He glanced up at the numerous clocks Maurice had hanging up, saying, "Okay, it's twelve thirty. How late exactly are we planning to be?" 

"As late as we wanna," Lisa said smugly, flashing Maurice a sweet smile. "Barry starts his new job today!"

"Doin' what?" 

"We still gotta figure that out," Barry admitted, "But it's down at La Belle et la Bête. I could wait tables or something-" 

"Why don't you get your ass up on stage and sing?" Maurice asked, his bushy brows rising in surprise. "It's a music joint still, right?" 

"Maury." Barry's ears burned. "Nah, come on."

Lisa looked intrigued, purring, "Ohhhh, Barry! Can you sing?" 

"In the shower!" Barry replied quickly. "It's nothing special." 

"Don't fuckin' listen to him. Sings like a little bird," Maurice said to Lisa, smiling softly. "Kid is talented. Real fuckin' talented. Give him an audition, you'll see." 

"Mmm, guess we'll find out," Lisa said with a grin, "Come on. Let's get going, Barry. I wanna see what you've got." 

"Oh, God," Barry protested, clutching the jewelry box tightly to his chest as Lisa grabbed him arm. He glanced back at Maurice as Lisa led him to the door, calling out, "Hey! I'll call you later! Since I have a phone now! Bye!"

"See ya' round, kid! And hey, Miss Snart? You're a real fine lady, but I meant what I fuckin' said," Maurice said with a charming smile. 

"I don't intend on anyone breaking anything so much as a nail," Lisa purred in reply, "I'll see you around, Maury." 

"Well, it's a damn shame you gotta go, but it's mighty fine to watch you leave," Maurice said, tipping his head as he shamelessly gawked at Lisa's departing rear. 

Lisa put an extra swing in her hips as she walked out just for him, cheerfully chirping, "Bye Maury!" 

Barry heard Maurice cackling all the way out to the limo, still clinging to the jewelry box as they got in the backseat. 

Lisa offered out her hand, saying, "Here. I'll put it in my purse if that's okay? I promise I'll keep it safe until we go home tonight."

"Sure," Barry said, reluctantly handing it over. He watched Lisa wrap it up in a thick scarf and gently tucked it away, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, seriously."

"Stop thanking me," Lisa laughed. "It's not really that big of a deal. If you really wanna make it up to me somehow, audition for me." 

"Fine," Barry said, sinking down into the seat. "But trust me, I'm not that great." 

"Mmm. We'll see," Lisa chuckled, pouring them drinks to sip on their way to the club. Barry was already feeling a bit of a buzz, grateful for the alcohol to soothe his nerves. 

He hadn't sung in front of an audience in a very long time. 

La Belle et la Bête was a beautiful theater, and even in the daytime the lights of the marquis were incredible. Barry was excited to finally see what it looked like on the inside. 

Jerry parked right out front, Lisa leading Barry around to a side door that she unlocked to allow them inside. She looped her arm in Barry's, humming cheerfully to herself as she strolled through the empty club. Barry could hear a piano playing, but didn't see one yet. 

All of the seating on the ground level had been removed to make way for tables, and the club concession area had been converted into a chic bar. The stage was massive, flanked by elaborate carvings of wicked beasts and roses, framed by thick red velvet curtains. 

Barry stared dumbly at the incredible architecture, hypnotized by all the details and rich colors. He grinned, looking up at the private booths overlooking the stage. The second level looked as if it had been also been updated to hold more tables, and he could see another bar. 

It was absolutely magical. 

Up on stage was a young man with long, black hair, nimble fingers coaxing a sweet melody from the grand piano he was seated at. He was wearing a Star Wars shirt and jeans, almost comically out of place amongst all the finery. 

The young man lifted his head, a pure and adoring smile lighting up his face when he saw Lisa. He looked like an eager puppy whose master had returned home after working all day. When his eyes met Barry's, he frowned suspiciously. 

"Hello, lovely!" Lisa greeted cheerfully. "I have someone for you to meet!" 

The young man stood up and peered down from the stage, waving at Barry. He still didn't look very pleased, saying shortly, "Hey." 

"This is Barry Allen," Lisa said, giving Barry a little squeeze. "He's my brother's new beau, and rumor has it that's he's quite the little singer." 

The young man looked instantly relieved, his smile kinder now when he looked at Barry. "Oh, yeah?" He grinned, sitting back down at the piano. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Barry. I'm Cisco Ramon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look who joined the party! Hi, Cisco! /waves
> 
> Little plot type things gettin' set up in this chapter. Wonder whose initials 'LS' are. Huh. 
> 
> Next up, Barry's audition and his first night working at the Club! Sorry if this chapter was weird, random filler. There are certain plot points I have to hit for the grand finale, and agh, it was a little meh to me. But woooo, singing Barry!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry debuts at the club.

Barry managed to navigate his way through the back around the curtains and joined Cisco on stage, shaking his hand with a friendly grin. "Hey, love your shirt!" 

"Thanks!" Cisco beamed, " _Empire_ was always the best, you know?" 

"Oh! Freakin' totally!" Barry gushed excitedly, "Have you seen the new ones yet? Tell me, did you like-" 

"Hey! Turn down the geek," Lisa called out, taking her place at the table positioned closest to center stage. "It's super adorable, it is, but I need to find out what we're gonna do with you, Barry. If you can sing, you're so in. If not, well, we gotta find something else." 

"Right," Barry said with a sheepish smile, "Sorry." 

"So, any experience singing?" Cisco asked, his fingers tapping out a few notes. 

"I used to do choir, uh, some glee club in high school," Barry replied, rubbing at the back of his neck as he approached the microphone stand. "I love musicals, and show tunes, and uh, well, anything really." 

Cisco nodded, running his fingers over the keys for a moment as he tried to think of an appropriate song to test Barry's singing prowess. He smirked, both of his hands moving over the piano as he thought of the perfect one. 

Barry actually laughed, recognizing the tune immediately and turning around to grin at Cisco. "Seriously?" 

"Come on, man," Cisco teased, "Get your Buckaroo Banzai on!" 

Barry swallowed thickly, the sound audible in the microphone. He tried to calm down, smiling shyly down at Lisa. He did his best to imagine the Hong Kong Cavaliers behind him, slowly swaying his hips to the music as he began to softly sing. 

"I don't have plans and schemes, and I don't have hope and dreams. I don't have anything..." Barry took a breath, his voice stronger as he sang on, "Since I don't have you." 

Lisa's jaw dropped, looking down at her arm to check for goosebumps. The boy could sing. She stared in awe, grinning wide as Barry went on singing. 

"I don't have fond desires, and I don't have happy hours," Barry crooned, smiling more now, "I don't have anything, since I don't have you. 

Barry blushed all the while, belting out the words with all his heart, his hand resting easily on the microphone. He was more comfortable now, letting the words move him along, singing confidently. 

"I don't have love to share, and I don't have one who cares," he went on, going for a big finish, "I don't have anything, since I don't have you!" 

Cisco's fingers flew across the keys for one last chord, laughing. "Hey! Not bad for a monkey boy!" 

Lisa was on her feet, clapping and cheering, "Holy shit, Barry! You're fucking amazing!" She grinned at Cisco, promptly instructing him, "You two. Come up with a three song set for tonight. You'll go on at eleven. I'm going to make sure Lenny comes tonight. He has got to hear you sing, holy fuck balls." 

Barry gulped, his eyes wide. 

Cold here. Listening to him sing. Watching him on stage. 

_You'd let me fuck you in front of the whole world..._

Barry shivered. 

Cisco gave Lisa a firm salute, saying, "I think we can handle it." 

She blew Cisco a kiss, purring, "You're a doll, Cisco. Thank you! Remember, keep it cool, but fun! I really wanna knock Lenny's socks off with this." 

"Wow," Barry panted, suddenly tingly and numb. He was gonna be singing for Boss Cold tonight. "But wait, he told me I have to be back at midnight." 

"What are you, a fuckin' pumpkin?" Lisa scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Ugh. Come on. He'll come to the show, be fuckin' amazed, and I'm sure he won't even care about you being a little late for playtime." 

Barry was not as certain, flexing his fingers anxiously. 

"Now, you boys have a good time," Lisa cooed, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. "Mama's gotta go do grownup things. Cisco will take good care of you, Barry." 

"Right, uhm," Barry started, fidgeting. "My mom's... stuff? In your purse?" 

"Oh, right!" Lisa nodded, promising, "I'll go put it in the safe in Lenny's office right now, okay?" 

"Thank you, Lisa," Barry said, sighing in relief. "See you later!" 

"Bye Barry!" she called, pausing to offer Cisco an extra sweet smile, purring, "Bye bye, Cisco." 

Cisco grinned dopily, a love struck expression Barry knew all too well. He waved at Lisa, watching her every movement until she disappeared into the back. 

Barry tried not to smile, but he couldn't help it. It was very clear Cisco had quite the crush. 

"So, you and Boss Cold?" Cisco asked casually, glancing sideways at Barry. 

Barry grinned shyly, nodding. "Yeah. It's complicated. Uhm... so, you and Lisa?" 

"Also complicated," Cisco admitted, "As in, I worship her, but I basically don't exist in her world. She's the Princess Leia to my Momaw Nadon." 

"Wait, who?" Barry's brow scrunched up. "The... hammerhead guy in _A New Hope_?" 

"Exactly," Cisco said sadly. "Not exactly a leading man, you know. He didn't even have a name when they put out his action figure the first time. That's me. Plus, I'm kind of terrified of Cold. He doesn't like any of Lisa's boyfriends, like ever, and they never stick around long." 

"You mean like Dickie?" Barry inquired carefully. 

Cisco's face darkened. "Hey, fuck that prick. I'm glad he's dead. He got exactly what he fuckin' deserved." 

"Sorry," Barry said quickly, frowning at the sudden burst of venom. "I didn't mean to... you know." 

"How long have you and Cold been seeing each other?" Cisco asked curiously, more than happy to divert the conversation though he still looked grim. 

"Like... three days ago?" 

"Fuck, man," Cisco laughed, shaking his head. "You are in for a lot of fucking surprises." He smirked, rubbing his hands together as he went on, "Now, I can play pretty much anything, but the band really only knows the golden oldies. Like, ol' Sinatra, Perry Como, and lots of other very talented and equally deceased people. Classic, totally, but stiff as hell." 

"Band?" 

"Uh, yeah," Cisco said flatly, "You know, people with instruments?" 

Barry plopped flat on his butt on the stage, his head starting to swim. Singing in front of Cold with a live band and less than a day to practice. There was so much that could go wrong. "This is so much more complicated than singing in the shower," he moaned. 

"Hey, hey," Cisco soothed. "My man. Mi amigo. Barry. I'm here to make you look good. You look good, I look good, okay?" 

"Okay," Barry replied, nodding slowly. He took a deep breath, smiling nervously and hugging his knees. 

"And together, we're gonna what?" 

Barry stared. 

"We're gonna look _really_ good," Cisco said smugly, giving Barry a proud finger gun display. "All you gotta do is trust me, I got you." 

"Okay," Barry said, still completely stumped as how to proceed. "So..." 

Cisco idly tapped across the piano keys, asking politely, "Would you like me to make some suggestions?" 

"Oh, God, yes, please," Barry pleaded. 

"Open with Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight", okay?" Cisco said, "It's like, a freakin' staple here, and it'll help get the band warmed up to you. And honestly, "Since I Don't Have You". The band has totally played it before, and plus, I gotta get my nerd on a little bit, and you know that one." 

"Okay. I've never really sung Sinatra," Barry said, "Can we work on that?" 

"Of course!" Cisco replied, "Anything special you wanna do for the last song? Lisa said we could have a little fun. Maybe somethin' sexy for your man." Cisco waggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Marvin Gay? Some Prince?" 

"Oh, I know exactly what I wanna do now," Barry said with a crooked little grin. The song came to him in an instant, saying hesitantly, "Do you, uh, know any Halsey?" 

"Yeah," Cisco replied, intrigued. "What song?" 

Barry pulled out his new phone, poking around until he was able to retrieve the internet browser. He did a quick search, showing the video result to Cisco. 

"Oh, I can totally dig it," Cisco said with a big thumb's up. "I'm thinking, minimal music. Like, just me on piano and you singing. Maybe light strings, our violinist is a pretty quick study. Just go all Mariah Carey up there, and it'll sound great. I know you've got the range." 

"Do you think... do you think he'll like it?" Barry asked bashfully. "Cold, I mean." 

Cisco tucked his hair back behind his ears, shrugging. "Uh, guess there's only one way to find out?" 

Barry pouted. That hadn't been the answer he was looking for, putting his phone away with a sigh. "I have no idea what I'm doing here," he admitted, "I thought... I thought I'd be bussing tables or something." 

"Hey," Cisco said, trying for a reassuring smile, "I've worked here for seven years. Actually started off as a bus boy myself until Cold heard me messin' around on the piano at the end of my shift one night. He didn't know me from crap, but he could see I had talent, so he offered me a job." 

"Really?" Barry smiled softly. 

"Cold sees potential in people," Cisco said with a humble shrug of his shoulders. "Things they didn't even think they had in them. Diamond in the rough stuff. He's good at that, looking at people, figuring out how he can use them better." 

"Use them? You mean to exploit them?" Barry asked, a frown wrinkling his brow. 

"Okay, it's not like he's a saint," Cisco conceded, "Far freakin' from it. He's Emperor level scary, no offense. But it's like..." He was thoughtful for a moment before saying, "Okay, you know how your parents always tell you that you can be anything when you grow up? As long as you try real hard?" 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"Well, let's say you wanna be an engineer, but you totally suck at math. You would waste your whole life trying to do something that you're gonna blow nuts at. But Cold sees that you're super good at like, I dunno, gardening or whatever! And he has you go become a master landscaper and you totally rule the Green with Swamp Thing." 

"Still not following." 

"Nobody is nobody, and everyone has something to offer," Cisco said with a smirk. 

"Are you seriously quoting _Buckaroo Bonzai_ at me?" Barry scoffed. 

"Yes! But it's from the DVD feature! Anyway, it's true!" Cisco argued, "Everyone does have something to offer, and Cold will always find a way to get it. Everything he does is for a reason, and it's always to benefit himself. But it's also benefiting you. The best version of you is what will help him the most, and he will nurture that." 

"Okay, so, what's your point?" Barry demanded, getting a little cross and folding his arms over his chest. 

"My point is that Cold had you come here for a reason," Cisco said, holding out his hands in apology, "As long as I've worked here, you're the first guy I've ever even heard of him dating. Or... whatever it is you're doing. He definitely didn't get you a job here to set you up for failure." 

"But he didn't even know I could sing," Barry protested. 

"Are you sure about that?" 

Barry thought of his shower serenading, blushing softly. "Okay, maybe. But Lisa didn't know until-" 

"Look, with that voice? It was gonna come out eventually," Cisco laughed softly. "Cold is a bonafide Watcher, dude. There is like nothing that goes down that he doesn't know about. A mouse can't fart without him sniffing' it... but!" He twiddled his fingers across the keys, a sly smile lighting up his face. "Maybe, just maybe, we can cook up a little bit of a surprise for him tonight, huh?" 

"Yeah?" Barry rubbed his hands together, smiling again now. He got back up to his feet, giving him awkward finger guns and a big grin. "Let's freakin' do this." 

"Easy there, Brisco," Cisco snorted, "Put those things away before you shoot your eye out." 

"Right, sorry," Barry chuckled sheepishly. 

"Ready?" 

"Ready." 

They had roughly six hours to practice before the club opened, and another two before Barry would be due on stage. They ran through the whole set dozens of times, Barry struggling with the unfamiliar Sinatra tune in particular. 

As Cisco ran him through the set for the millionth time, Barry found himself thinking about what they had discussed earlier. 

The day he met Cold and he wrapped his hands around Barry's neck, it awoke something deep inside of him that he never knew was there. He didn't know if this submissive temperament was the best possible version of himself, but in a way... it was. 

He had never tried so hard to please someone before, pushing his body and his mind beyond what he had ever thought possible. He loved every second of his self-discovery, and Cold always left him aching for more. Most importantly, he had never been as happy with anyone as he was with Cold. 

Now here he was, only a few hours away from performing in front of a live audience. No one had ever believed in him as much as the gangster did, and Barry didn't want to let him down. 

The band arrived shortly before opening and Barry was thrilled to practice with such talented musicians. They only had enough time for a few brief rehearsals, but Barry felt better about his performance already. 

Lisa had returned to catch the last song, the one by Halsey, and was squealing excitedly. She jumped up on stage to grab Barry and pull him into a hug, laughing, "Oh, my God! Lenny's panties are going to fuckin' drop!" 

Barry patted her shoulder awkwardly, sensing Cisco's eyes drilling holes into his back. "Oh! You should really be thanking Cisco!" he protested, "I mean, I really couldn't have done it without him!" 

"Aw! Ciscie!" Lisa released Barry to immediately glomp Cisco, smooching his cheek and wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you so much! Unnph, it's so good!" 

Cisco looked positively euphoric, grinning at Barry and mouthing a silent 'I love you', hugging Lisa back. "Anything for you," he said earnestly, beaming up at her shyly. 

Lisa teased his hair a little, her attention back on Barry and snapping her fingers. "Okay, now! I took the liberty of getting you a tux because I'm, what, amazing," she giggled, "Come on. I'll show you to your new dressing room." 

Barry followed Lisa backstage, managing to catch one last glimpse of Cisco's blushing and blissed out face. He wondered if that's what he looked like around Cold, shrugging off the thought as Lisa led him to a moderately sized dressing room. It looked as if it had once been used for storage, several boxes and sundries still stacked up against the far wall. 

Hanging on a clothes rack was a slick bag garment bag. Lisa had procured some hair styling products and cologne, lined up across a small vanity. "Here ya' go, sweetie!" Lisa purred, "Get ready and come find me at the bar. We'll get you a bit of liquid courage and some food, okay?" 

"Wait!" Barry looked around quickly, frowning. "Did you bring me any other shoes?" 

"Wear the Chucks!" Lisa drawled, planting her hand on her hips. "They're black! Trust me, it'll look so good!" 

The door shut, leaving Barry to start getting dressed alone. He fixed his hair and sprayed on the cologne, checking himself out the mirror. Okay, Lisa was right, the sneakers totally worked. 

He found Lisa at the bar, immediately getting her nod of approval and a Long Island iced tea to go with it. The club filled up quickly as the hours ticked by, Cisco leading the band throughout the evening, his piano always stealing the show. Barry was impressed; Cisco really was incredibly good. But as much as he was enjoying the music, here was still no sign of Cold. 

"Are you sure he's coming?" Barry asked, his voice strained with worry. 

Lisa rolled her eyes, squeezing Barry's shoulders. "Yes, I told him what time you were going on, and he yelled at me about messing with your schedule, and blah blah blah." She wagged her hand, imitating a yapping mouth. "Don't worry about it, it'll be fine." 

Barry didn't feel reassured at all. 

"Just keep your eye up on that booth," Lisa soothed, running her nails through Barry's hair, nodding to the private box overlooking the stage. "He will be there. Now, finish your drink and get your cute butt backstage. It's almost time!" 

Barry gulped back the alcohol, giving her an obedient salute as he headed to the back. The band had taken a brief break, and he saw Cisco hurrying up to him. He had also changed into a tuxedo, gold and black, and also happened to be wearing Chuck Taylors. 

"Nice kicks!" Cisco laughed, giving Barry a high five. 

"Yeah, you, too!" Barry said, smiling nervously. 

"Remember. Make me look good, okay?" Cisco chuckled, "You got this." 

Barry watched Cisco hurry out in front of the curtains to take his seat at his piano, waiting for his cue to go. He heard the first few notes of "The Way You Look Tonight", took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the stage, smiling brightly at the audience as his heart dropped into his intestines. Holy crap, that was a lot of people. Even with the lights shining down on him, he could still see that there was quite a crowd. 

He glanced up at the private box overlooking the stage. 

Still empty. 

There was a light smattering of applause as Barry moved to the microphone. He glanced behind him to nod at Cisco, his new friend smiling and giving him a wink. Barry smiled anxiously, and began to sing, "Someday when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight..." 

Barry let his body sway to the rhythm, his eyes wandering over the audience. He never really looked at anyone in particular, letting his voice carry throughout the theater, losing himself in the music. 

As the song began to draw to a close, he could feel someone looking at him. It was a distinct sensation that made him shiver and all the little hairs stand up on the back of his neck. 

Barry looked upwards just as he finished, smiling brightly as he saw the private booth was now occupied by Boss Cold and Mick Rory. His heart flipped when he realized that they were talking to each other, and Cold didn't seem to be paying him any more attention. 

He gulped nervously, nearly flubbing the opening for "Since I Don't Have You". He sang it flawlessly, the full swing of the band behind him and he had never felt so proud of himself. And yet, Cold was still talking to Mick. 

Barry took a shaky breath as the lights on the stage dimmed, the only illumination now on Cisco and himself. Cisco's fingers began to move, and Barry swore he was playing in time with the dull, anxious thumping of his own heart. If Cisco was right, Cold had planned all of this for him; to get him on this stage, to perform. 

Barry thought he had been doing a good job, but down in his soul he knew he could do better. He didn't want to disappoint Cold, making up his mind to give this song everything he had. 

It was now or never. 

"My demons," Barry purred softy into the mic, sultry and confident, "Are begging me to open up my mouth... I need them, mechanically make the words come out." 

Cold had shifted in his seat, glancing down at Barry. 

"They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce," Barry sang on, glancing up when he felt Cold watching him again, "Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about." 

Their eyes met, and suddenly there was no one else in the theater. Barry could still hear the piano behind him, but everything else vanished. The theater was empty except for the two of them. 

"I sold my soul to a three piece!" Barry belted out, grasping the microphone and pointing right up at Cold. He smiled slyly, continuing on in a soulful purr, "And he told me I was holy... He's got me down on both knees!" He held that note, several cheers erupting from the audience, Cisco holding for a beat so Barry could really show off his voice. 

Cold had leaned forward, his hand clutching the railing in front of him, completely entranced. 

"But it's the devil that's trying to hold me down!" Barry roared triumphantly, Cisco's fingers slamming down into the keys as the music and Barry's vocals joined together for the chorus. 

_Hold me down, hold me down. Sneaking out the back door, make no sound! Knock me out, knock me out. Saying that I want more, this is what I live for!_

_Hold me down, hold me down. Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown. Knock me out, knock me out. Saying that I want more, this is what I live for._

Barry swept a hand through his hair, his voice dropping back down to a seductive drawl as he dove into the next worse, "Selfish, taking what I want and call it mine... I'm helpless, clinging to a little bit of spine. They rush me, telling me I'm running out of time." 

Behind him, another spotlight lit up, a violinist getting into position. 

"They shush me," Barry purred, pressing his finger to his lips, dragging his lower lip down as his eyes hungrily gazed up at Cold. "Walking me across a fragile line." 

Both of Cold's hands were now holding onto the railing, his icy eyes positively on fire as he looked back down at Barry. His lips were parted in awe as if witnessing something divine, and that was all the confidence Barry needed to finish strong. 

"I sold my soul to a three piece, and he told me I was holy," Barry sang passionately, his soul threatening to leave his body as his emotions made his voice louder and stronger than ever. "He's got me down on both knees! But it's the devil that's trying to hold me down!" 

The violinist jumped in then, she and Cisco playing a fantastic and intense crescendo, Barry continuing to push himself to new heights as they rocked through the chorus again. 

"Hold me down now," Barry sang softly, breathing deep to push out the raw power of his voice for the bridge of the song, joined only by the violin as he sang to the heavens. “Hold me down now. Hold me down." He held the last note as long as he could, whistling and gasping bubbling up from the audience at his incredible talent. 

But Barry didn't hear any of them. It was only him and Cold here, the gangster totally spellbound by his beautiful voice. It didn't seem like there was an inch of space between them, swearing that he could smell Cold's cologne and feel the sweet touch of his breath at his neck in that beautiful moment. 

Cisco's piano came back in when Barry finally had to let go, guiding them back through the chorus a final time. 

"Hold me down. Hold me down. Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown! Knock me out, knock me out," Barry kept on, whipping his head back and moving his body as he sang. He wrapped both of his hands around the microphone, putting all of his heart into the final few lines, "Saying that I want more, this is what I live for!" 

The audience erupted into a furious round of applause the moment Cisco hit the final chord, Barry staring all around as he came back to reality. He looked quickly back up to Cold, grinning like a fool. Cold was actually up on his feet applauding. His face was calm as always, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he smirked down at Barry. 

Barry watched in amazement as the rest of the audience rose to their feet, prompting him to take a bow. He grinned stupidly up at Cold, a warm sensation filling him up from his scalp down to his toes when the gangster winked at him. Barry took a few more bows, practically floating off the stage to the sound of vigorous applause and fervent cheering. 

The band still had one more set to play, but Lisa met him the second he stepped off stage, squealing and hollering excitedly as she whooped, "Oh, my God! Absolutely fuckin' panty droppin' shit! Good shit!" 

Barry blushed all over, his senses tingling with adrenaline and the thrill of performing. "I did it, holy crap, I did it!" 

"Fuck, yes!" Lisa cheered, "Let's go get you a drink!" 

One drink turned into several, stunned by how many people came up to him to compliment him on his performance. He kept looking for Cold, but he hadn't seen him since the last song ended. He had disappeared, leaving Barry him wanting of the man's company more than ever. 

Cisco came to congratulate him and stare longingly at Lisa while they shared a few more rounds of drinks. The patrons began to dwindle as the club got ready for closing, the band packing up for the night. Barry was happily buzzed, his bow tie askew and his cheeks rosy. 

Tonight had been fantastic. 

The last of the staff were getting ready to leave and most of the lights had been turned off except the globes that lined the bottom of the stage and the neons of the bar. Cisco had to tap out when Lisa started breaking out the shots, leaving Lisa and Barry by themselves. 

"You think you can do that at least three times a week?" Lisa was giggling, "Because holy shit, sweetie. I've never seen a fuckin' standing ovation like that. Not like, ever." 

"I can try," Barry giggled back, "I gotta ask your brother first to make sure it's okay. Fuck! Your brother. It's so not midnight. It's like, three in the morning. Crap. Do you know where he is? Ohhhh, I still gotta get my mom's stuff. Did he go back home?" 

Lisa grinned like a cat, tapping away on her phone. She smirked, eyes flicking over a message before looking up at Barry. "Oh, he's around," she said innocently, "Just had some business to take care of... But he's back." 

"Back? Where?" 

Lisa cleared her throat dramatically, nodding towards the stage. 

Barry jerked his head around, gasping when he saw Boss Cold himself standing next to Cisco's piano, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He was wearing a three piece suit as always, this one a rich charcoal pinstripe that made Barry's knees weak. He smirked, setting down the champagne and beckoning Barry over with a crook of his finger. 

Lisa hummed loudly, very pleased with herself as she purred, "Mmmmm, well, I hope you boys have a wonderful time! I'm sure I'll see you soon." She gave Barry a big hug, kissing his cheek as she grunted, "Mmph. You really did great, sweetie. Good night!" 

"Good night," Barry said, his eyes moving back to Cold waiting patiently for him on stage. He hurried back behind the curtains, eager and quick, but suddenly awkward once they were finally face to face again. 

Singing to Cold had felt so intimate, almost spiritual, and the air between them seemed charged with a different kind of energy than usual. He smiled sweetly up at the gangster, eyeing the champagne. "Are we... celebrating?" 

"Oh, we have a lot to celebrate," Cold drawled, setting down the glasses next to the champagne. He lifted a sly brow, his gaze darkening with lust as he purred, "And we also have to discuss your punishment, of course." 

"Punishment?" Barry's face dropped. 

"Yes, Mr. Allen," Cold replied, sitting down leisurely at the piano, "You were instructed to return to me by midnight... and it's well past that now. Perhaps you're in need of another lesson, hmm?" 

Barry gulped. 

Oh, crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO! Smut fairy is on her way! Thank you for all the love and squishes and agh, YOU GUYS ARE FRIGGIN' AWESOME.
> 
> Also, sadly, I may lose my speedster status soon. I am trying to finish up some entries for Coldflash Week (SO CLOSE), but I promise I will still be working on this fic. I swear that I will continue to update as fast as I can.
> 
> Also also, I've updated the chapter count to reflect the new outline because I can't seem to stop writing smut. It's sort of bogging up the plot, but I wanna write dirty things because reasons. We're looking at 25 chapters of gangstery goodness. Holy crap bunnies. I swear this fic will have an ending, and it will be a super happy one. 
> 
> Speaking of happy things, I've really been enjoying seeing you guys try to figure out who that ring belongs to... hehehehe.
> 
> It is not Lewis Snart; nor Lisa or Leonard... and that's all I'm going to tell you. *evil cackle*
> 
> ALSO ALSO ALSO, a special thanks to A-Redharlequin for getting that damn Halsey song stuck in my head and suggesting it for Barry. <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is punished.

A punishment, Cold had said. 

Barry's stomach was dancing with trepidation and excitement, his loins beginning to stir. He knew what kind of punishments Cold enjoyed, and he couldn't deny how much he liked them as well. 

But still... how was this fair. 

"Lisa said she talked to you," Barry argued stubbornly, "She told you-" 

"Is your arrangement with Lisa?" Cold said abruptly, popping the cork off the champagne bottle. He snorted at Barry, pouring them each a glass. "No, your arrangement is with me. And if I give you an order, I expect it to be followed." 

"But the show-" 

"Was incredible," Cold said, raising his brows, "But you still disobeyed me." 

Barry's pulse started to race, squeaking the tip of his sneaker against the stage floor. The compliment won over his frustration, asking softly, "You really liked it?" 

He did not want to so obviously fish for compliments, but he was also desperate for this man's approval. 

Cold waved him over, offering him a glass of champagne. "Mmm, well, we are celebrating aren't we?" 

Barry took a sip, beaming happily. "How did you know?" 

"Know what?" Cold countered coyly. 

"That I could sing." 

"You're not exactly quiet in the shower, Mr. Allen," Cold replied with a tiny hint of a smile, drinking his champagne slowly. 

Barry blushed. "So, this was your plan all along, huh?" 

"Perhaps," Cold replied smugly. He stood up, his hand gently resting on the side of Barry's neck, his thumb gently tracing along his jaw. 

Barry gulped down his champagne, his head starting to swim from Cold's seductive touch. 

"Tell me," Cold asked in a smooth drawl, "Did you like it... everyone watching you?" 

Barry closed his eyes, nodding slowly. "Yes... but I liked you watching me the best." 

Cold hummed at that, finishing off his champagne and setting his glass on top of the piano. He took Barry's away to join it, sighing as he glanced over his lean frame hungrily. He began to slowly loosen Barry's bow tie, deftly opening up his shirt and sliding it off along with his jacket. 

Barry pulse was racing from Cold's smooth divesting. He loved how he undressed him, always with such care and patience. He watched him carefully fold everything and drop them down on the floor by the bench. Barry shivered when Cold's strong hands rested on his hips, squeezing hard. 

"How would you like to see your name out on that marquis, hmm?" Cold purred, his head tilting curiously. "Maybe I could watch you sing every night?" 

"Are you serious?" Barry balked, blinking in surprise. "You'd... you'd do that?" 

Cold picked Barry up effortlessly, setting him on top of the piano. "I would," he replied as he sat down on the bench between Barry's long legs. He smirked slyly, playfully stroking Barry's calf as he added, "Under certain conditions, of course." 

"Oh. Of course," Barry couldn't help but giggle, grinning down at him. He wondered if he'd ever be able to taste those wicked lips, sighing, "So, another deal?" 

"Mmhm." Cold untied Barry's sneakers, dropping them onto the floor with the other clothes. His socks followed right after, Cold informing him, "But one thing at a time. First, there is the matter of your punishment, Mr. Allen." 

Cold began to unfasten Barry's pants, slowly sliding them down his long legs. He ran his fingers up over his thighs before grabbing the hem of his briefs and dragging those down as well. He squeezed Barry's knees, pushing them apart. 

Barry smiled at all the affection. Cold was touching him more and more now. He couldn't get enough of it, scooting his butt to the very edge of the piano, his feet dangling against the keys as he tried to get closer. A few scattered notes played as his toes tried to find a firm hold, gasping when Cold grabbed him. 

Cold eased Barry's long legs over his shoulders, smirking slyly up at him as he licked his lips. 

Barry wanted to reach out and touch, but kept his hands firmly in place behind him. So far this didn't feel like a punishment, but the anticipation was thick and heavy. His cock was stiffening right up, leaning back on his hands, biting his lower lip anxiously. 

Cold leaned forward, pushing Barry's hips up and running his tongue flat against his hole with a ravenous growl. 

"Fuck," Barry whimpered, Cold licking and sucking so sweetly, he was falling apart in moments. Cold's tongue was amazingly dexterous, slipping deep inside and curling so perfectly Barry's legs were already shaking. 

Cold hummed contently, patient as always, now lavishing Barry's hole with long, flat licks and scorching kisses as his fingers smoothly slipped inside of him. 

Barry slouched down, trembling as Cold's fingers tore out the most beautiful sounds from him. He was soon flat on his back, digging his heels in to bring Cold closer. 

Cold shifted forward, the piano keys protesting as he got more passionate, pulling away for breath before diving in again. His fingers curled just so, making Barry moan loudly, the sound echoing throughout the empty club. 

Barry was perspiring, his back curling off the piano as Cold made him see stars, panting and crying out again. "God... Cold," he warned breathlessly, "I'm close." 

Cold moved his fingers and got his tongue back to work, his hand fumbling for something on top of the piano. 

Barry was trying to thrust his hips down against Cold's face, wanting his tongue deeper, harder, anything to carry him over the edge. 

There was a sudden splash of cold liquid pouring over his stomach, jerking up onto his elbows with a startled whine. The shock of the cool temperature nearly killed his erection, staring down at Cold in a mix of horror and betrayal.

Cold was busy pouring the rest of the champagne down Barry's body, chuckling happily as he sucked at his thighs and balls, lapping it up greedily. 

Barry shivered. His nipples were hard, and the chill was making his body feel more sensitive. He shuddered again at how voracious Cold was, dunking the last few drops over Barry's cock and licking a hungry path up his shaft with his tongue to chase them down. 

It wasn't long before Barry's cock was hard again, relaxing against the piano as Cold got him right back to where he was before. Barry's hands struggled to find something to hold onto, dragging his fingertips through his hair as Cold buried his face between his legs. 

It was hard to believe he had Boss Cold down there between his thighs. He was the king of Central City, a monster and a fiend, and he was eating Barry's ass like he was fucking starved for it. 

"Close, please," Barry pleaded, smug that at least Cold didn't have any more champagne to dump on him. He started pushing his hips down to gain more friction, his body tensing up in anticipation of what was sure to be a spectacular orgasm. "Please, let me come, sir." 

_Almost there, there, right there, so close..._

"No," Cold purred shortly, roughly gripping the base of Barry's cock and squeezing tight. 

The wind was knocked right out of Barry's lungs, all of his pleasurable feelings crashing right into a brick wall. His cock was throbbing from being denied, fuck, he was right there! His balls were fucking aching for release. Barry banged his head against the piano, mewling in frustration. 

"Not yet," Cold said sternly, pulling his hand away when he was sure Barry wasn't going to come. 

"But... sir?" Barry tried, his voice broken with need. "Please?" 

"This is a punishment, remember?" Cold reminded him smugly. "To remind you who you belong to..." 

Barry moaned at that, scrubbing his hands over his face. It was too hot in here, and his desperation to orgasm was overwhelming. "I'm yours," he promised desperately, "Please, I'm all yours." 

"Prove it," Cold commanded, "Don't come until I tell you that you can... no matter what. You only listen to _me_. Not to Lisa, not to anyone else, not even yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Barry gurgled, trying not to sob. He wanted to be good for Cold, but fuck, he wanted to come so badly. The desire to relieve the pressure between his legs was maddening, taking a few quick breaths to calm himself down. 

Cold's fingers were circling his hole again, not yet intruding, simply teasing and petting. He slid them up to touch the top of Barry's cock, dabbing the bubbles of precome that had collected there. "There," he praised, sensing that Barry was relaxing now, "Good boy." 

Barry smiled at the compliment, his chest swelling with pride. He was doing better, he could make Cold happy. He could do this. He let Cold touch and pet him however he pleased, moaning gratefully with his fingers plunged back inside of him. 

Barry was writhing once more in moments, the piano keys singing out as Cold changed angles, shifting closer. He gasped as Cold suddenly stood up, Barry's legs still up on his shoulders, driving his fingers even deeper. 

Barry's head fell back against the piano, wishing he could reach out and grab Cold's vest, his shirt. He wanted more contact, something else to bridge them together other than his magical fingers that were currently reducing his senses to oatmeal. 

He could feel his orgasm building again, gritting his teeth as he tried to fend it off. He heard Cold growl contently, glancing up to see a flash of his teeth as he leered down at him. Barry moaned as Cold pulled his beautiful fingers out, sliding on a condom judging by the tell tale crinkle sounds. 

Barry didn't know where the lube came from, but Cold's cock was slick and hot, nudging against his hole. "Grab your legs, hold them up for me." 

Barry grabbed behind his knees, pulling his legs back as ordered. It felt dirty to display himself like this, his face burning hot as Cold gazed approvingly down at him. 

Cold rubbed the head of his cock around Barry's open hole, purring, "Beautiful..." He moved his other hand up over Barry's lean stomach, his thumb grazing his belly button as he traveled up to press his palm against his throat. His fingers began to tighten, asking huskily, "Yes?" 

"Yes," Barry sighed, his body offering no resistance. 

Cold squeezed enough to make Barry gasp, his cock thrusting into him in one fluid slam. Barry whimpered, tears in his eyes as Cold fucked him ruthlessly. He was punishing him now, making Barry cry out and scream, the brutal snap of their bodies cracking like a whip. 

Barry couldn't explain it, but the way Cold was holding his throat didn't scare him at all. He trusted Cold completely, and he never applied enough pressure to restrict his breathing. It made him feel safe, every sensation a hundred times more intense, and he loved how possessively Cold's fingers would curl when Barry moaned particularly loudly. 

Cold shrugged one of Barry's legs up over his shoulder, leaning over him and fucking with long, deep thrusts. The angle was so good, too good, Barry scrambling to reach down and grabbing his cock to stop himself from coming. He ached all over, overstimulated and raw, sobbing loudly as he denied himself release. 

"Good boy," Cold purred proudly. He let go of Barry's throat, both of his hands latching onto his narrow hips as he worked their bodies together. His movements were more passionate now, less cruel, making sure every sound that left Barry's lips was a cry of pleasure. 

Barry gave himself over completely, smiling as he let Cold move him however he wanted. Cold was looking down at him now with that same awestruck expression he had when he was listening to Barry sing. His entire face was softer, his eyes lighter, and all the years melted right off of him. 

Barry was trembling all over. He had to touch him. He had to. Fingers shaking, he reached out, lightly tracing over Cold's cheekbone. 

To his amazement, Cold didn't smack him away. His eyes closed halfway, lost somewhere for a moment, snapping them open and gazing down at Barry with an intensity that took his breath away. He had slowed down to nearly a crawl, but each thrust still wrecked a low moan from Barry's lips. 

Braver still, he cupped Cold's cheek with his palm, whispering, "You're so beautiful." 

The emotions that suddenly broke out over Cold's face were startling. Hurt, anger, indignation, all in a quick flash that left his icy eyes wet with unshed tears, his lips parting as if to speak. But he suddenly froze, a snarl curling his lip and drawing his gun from under his jacket. His head snapped around to glare over his shoulder to roar, "Someone had better be fuckin' dead!" 

"Well, someone hopefully will be sooon," came the smooth and deranged voice of James Jesse, punctuating his words with a loud giggle. Axel Walker was with him, both of them leering at the spectacular situation they saw before them as they walked out onto the stage. 

Barry bolted upright, trying to hide himself behind Cold as much as possible. He grabbed onto the front of his vest, trying to bury himself into it. The Rogues were at least maintaining a respectful distance, but it didn't Barry feel much better about being seen like this. 

Cold had not even taken off his jacket. 

"We're so sorry to interrupt, Cold One," James said with a humble bow, lecherously smirking, "Especially while you're... hmmm. While you're..." 

"Tickling the ivories?" Axel suggested, grinning wide. 

"Ooo, that's good, son," James agreed, giggling like mad. 

They're both crazy, Barry thought. Neither one of them seemed the least bit concerned that Cold had a loaded gun pointed at them, continuing to snicker and guffaw at their terrible joke. 

Cold growled, his voice eerily calm as he hissed, "You have twenty three seconds to tell why you're here." 

"Oh! Right! Well, you said not to interrupt you-" James began. 

"Unless it was an emergency!" Axel added, beaming proudly. 

"And we agreed that this definitely qualified," James exclaimed passionately, "Like running out of salsa on Taco Night level emergency!" 

"Spit it out," Cold growled, his aim zeroed right in on James' forehead. "Fifteen seconds..." 

"More like running out of sour cream," Axel argued. 

"Salsa is more important than sour cream!" James defended in a disgusted tone. "If there's no salsa, what do you eat with the chips?" 

Barry was impressed that Cold's erection didn't falter, still clinging close as he tried to have some semblance of modesty. As James and Axel continued to bicker, he could sense someone staring at him. 

It made the little hairs on the back of his neck jump to attention, turning his head to see Eobard Thawne standing behind him on the other side of the stage. 

Thawne was staring unabashedly at Barry, smiling nastily. He was looking over his naked back and while he couldn't see much from the angle he was at, Barry could still feel his skin trying to crawl right off his bones. 

Thawne waved his hand in greeting, and Barry could see the bandage where Cold had cut off his finger. No one had ever looked at him with such hatred and disgusting intent. It made Barry feel sick, sucking in a quick breath. He pressed against Cold, feeling him tense, but he didn't move Barry away. 

"Salsa is still more important, and! And! Larry, Curly, and Moe are all here," James exclaimed finally, eyes wide as if this was exciting news. "Here in Central City. Right now." 

Barry was certain it was another stupid joke, terrified that he was about to see James get shot right in the face, but Cold's upper lip twitched. He lowered his gun, tucking it back into the holster under his jacket and snapped, "How long?" 

"Larry and Curly have been here since yesterday apparently," Axel supplied quickly, "Moe just got here tonight." 

Cold bared his teeth, the gears in his brain turning quickly as he processed this new information. 

"We should make a move tonight," Thawne said smoothly, "Their return is an obvious insult to your power. We should-" 

"We should not act rashly," Cold hissed icily. He was clearly furious that Thawne would dare suggest such a thing, but he remained calm. In a very stern tone, he commanded, "Do nothing until I say so. Spread the word... No one makes a move. We'll deal with this in the morning. Keep your eyes open, remain vigilant, but nothing goes down without my permission." 

James gave a solemn salute, stating proudly, "We will await your orders, oh very Cold One." 

Axel used his fingers to pry his eyelids up as he nodded obediently, chirping, "You got it, Boss." 

Thawne snarled faintly, but shrugged, replying cordially, "Whatever you say, Boss." 

Cold glared at Thawne, winding his arm possessively around Barry's waist. How Thawne was looking at him had not escaped his attention. "Damn right it's whatever I say," he said cooly, "Now... all of you. Get out." 

Barry sagged in relief, grateful they were all going to be leaving, leaning his forehead against Cold's chest. 

Cold smirked smugly at Barry, adding coyly, "I have some ivory that needs tickling."

Barry's face turned a lovely shade of red as James and Axel snickered and scattered like ghosts, disappearing as quickly as they arrived. Thawne lingered, gazing over the length of Barry's spine with a dark smile. 

He and Cold stared each other down for a few tense moments before Thawne finally departed. 

When they were alone, Cold gently touched Barry's cheek. He didn't say anything, but there was a definite hint of concern as he looked him over. 

"I'm okay," Barry said softly, "Thawne just... creeps me out." He could still feel Cold's cock hard inside of him, his own erection nearly wilted away. He was wise enough not to ask who the Three Stooges were. It was obviously some kind of code name, but he didn't dare ask. 

"So... tickling my ivory, huh?" Barry said instead, trying for a playful smile. 

Cold actually laughed. He laughed. It was short and unexpected, breathy and deep, but he had actually laughed. His eyes were mirthful as he purred, "Amongst other things..." 

Barry gasped as Cold's arm squeezed him, guiding his long legs back around his waist. He tilted his head down, nosing along Barry's throat. 

Barry could feel the softest tease of teeth, his breath stuttering in his throat. Cold's hands were gliding over his thighs to his hips, fingers squeezing softly as his cock began to thrust once more. He continued to breathe along Barry's neck, lightly nipping at his ear. 

Barry was melting all over, his hands struggling to find somewhere to rest. Cold grabbed his arm, lifting it around his neck, leaving Barry stunned for a few seconds. He held on tight, their faces only inches away from each other. He leaned back on his other hand to brace himself, groaning sweetly as Cold began to slam into him harder. 

Barry's legs tightened around Cold's waist, fingers clawing at the back of his head. A particularly deep thrust made him yelp, God, that was good. He wanted Cold to hit that spot again. 

He gave up his hold around his neck to grab Cold's hip, firm and warm, gasping as he got another hard slam. Barry bit his lip, feeling brave, sliding his hand lower and grabbing a handful of Cold's ass. 

God, and he had a nice ass, full, round, firm. There was still a thin layer of underwear separating him from feeling flesh, but Barry was so grateful he was being granted permission to touch him like this. Cold pushed forward, his legs smacking against the piano keys as he began to pant, growling deeply. 

The energy between them was changing, feeling less and less like a punishment and more intimate with every thrust. Barry was whimpering, his balls throbbing as his orgasm began to approach. He was desperate, trying like hell to tilt his hips in just the right position to stave off the inevitable. He couldn't focus, couldn't concentrate. He knew he couldn't come yet, and it was fucking torture. 

"Fuck!" Barry cried, knowing by Cold's litany of pants and growls that he was getting close. Barry gritted his teeth, his head tipping back and his feet clenching tight. Fuck, he didn't know how much longer he could last. He was certain his balls were going to implode if Cold didn't come soon and stop fucking him like this. 

Barry squeezed Cold's ass, trying to encourage him to finish, but Cold decided to slow down again apparently out of spite. Barry wanted to die, his head tipping back with a loud whimper. Cold was smiling, soothing softly, "You want it so badly, don't you..." 

"Yes, sir," Barry gasped, sweaty and trembling."I can't... I don't know how... it's so much, it's... it's too much." 

Cold thoughtfully slid his cock in and out of Barry's wet hole, humming as if he was trying to decide what sides to order at dinner. He slowly began to pick up the pace again, murmuring, "Only because you sang so beautifully tonight, I'm going to grant you mercy... you can come now, but never forget. You're only going to come because I'm giving you permission. You are mine." 

"Yours," Barry whispered, his stomach dropping in relief knowing he could finally ease the burning ache inside him. 

Cold grabbed Barry's hair, giving it a hard tug before launching back into a brutal rhythm, fucking him hard as he raced down the finish line. "Mine," Cold growled, his eyes drilling into Barry's, panting between clenched teeth. "Only mine." 

Barry was sobbing, grabbing his cock and stroking himself feverishly, chanting, "Yes, God, I'm yours, only yours, please, fuck, yours, please, please!" 

The pressure in his loins finally broke through and the rush was downright painful, making Barry's head throb as his cock splattered all over his hand and stomach. He screamed out right, bursting into tears from the wave of sensation. The discomfort was diluted by intense ecstasy, his body lost to waves of pleasure as his cock kept spurting wildly. 

Cold had finished in a much less dramatic fashion, but seemed no less pleased. He grunted, pressing his nose against Barry's throat, purring contently, "Good job, Mr. Allen." 

Barry leaned against Cold, smiling as he tried to catch his breath. "Hey... you, too."

Cold chuckled softly, his hand cradling the back of Barry's head. He pressed their foreheads together for a few precious beats, grunting as he began to pull away. 

Barry reached out, trying to put his hand on Cold's face. He wanted to recapture that feeling from before, that intense moment when he had told Cold he was beautiful. He didn't want this to end yet. 

Cold grabbed Barry's wrist, leaving him floundering in disappointment. 

Barry couldn't hide how much the rejection stung. He knew he was getting closer to Cold, but he wanted validation. 

As if sensing the need, Cold pressed a chaste kiss against Barry's palm. He let it linger, sighing deeply before finally separating their bodies. 

Barry pouted when Cold pulled out, knocking his knees together as he struggled to stay seated on the edge of the piano. Cold helped him stand up before fixing his pants. Barry didn't see what Cold did with the condom, but with one quick zip the gangster looked as if nothing had happened. 

Barry, meanwhile, was still a naked and trembling mess, grateful for Cold's strong hands to assist him. He got dressed, blushing at the way Cold watched him and how gently his fingers brushed against him. His legs felt stronger the more he stood on them, wiggling his feet into his shoes and tying them, smirking up at Cold. 

"Lisa put something of mine in your safe," Barry said, stretching his arms above his head with a soft groan. "It's my mother's jewelry, and she sort of bought it back for me, and, well. Long story." 

Cold's mouth twitched into a soft smirk. "Maury?" he asked knowingly. 

"Yeah, Maury," Barry replied, smiling shyly, "Can we go get it before you take me home?" 

"Home?" Cold snorted, glancing at his watch. "I'll go get it for you, but I'm not taking you home. Doesn't seem to be five yet. You're still on the clock, Mr. Allen." 

Barry flushed, gawking with his mouth hanging open. "You... you're serious." 

"Deadly," Cold drawled, a wicked smirk curling his lips. 

Barry gulped. 

"Mmmm, that's what I thought," Cold drawled with a dark chuckle, "Because we're going back to my estate first. I'd like to hear you sing a bit more. We have eighty four minutes left, and I promise you that I am going to take full advantage of every last second." 

Barry nodded obediently, grateful when they left and he had his mother's jewelry box in his hands again. By the time they got back inside Cold's bedroom, there was only about forty five minutes left. Barry didn't think Cold could make too much mischief for him in such a short amount amount of time. 

Oh, how wrong he was. Cold took him to bed, took him apart, and God, how he made him sing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut fairy, woooo!!! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Lisa hang out with some disastrous consequences.

Barry woke up to the sound of Cold roaming around his bedroom. He was surprised. Normally he always slept right through Cold getting ready in the morning. He stretched across the bed, kicking his long legs out and rolling over on his stomach. 

Cold had wanted to hear Barry sing again, and boy, did he get one hell of an encore. 

Barry's muscles ached in the most wonderful way, happy and content. Cold had used every last second to make Barry fall apart, bit by bit, leaving him completely exhausted and limo against the sheets by exactly five o'clock. 

Barry smiled when he opened his eyes and saw his mother's jewelry box sitting on the bedside table. He reached out and ran his finger over the lid, tracing the little roses. He blinked, startled when he saw Cold suddenly walk by. 

He wasn't wearing a shirt. 

Cold's right shoulder was visible for the briefest of moments, Barry drinking in the lean muscle and sharp tone that he saw. 

And the scars. 

There were two that looked like twin sunbursts with a patch of white marbled tissue stretched out beneath them. Another long thick scar ran in between those and down his back. That was all Barry could see before Cold was pulling on his shirt, buttoning it quickly. 

Cold didn't look at Barry, but spoke quietly, "I won't be needing your services today. Take the night off." 

Barry couldn't mask his disappointment at being denied an evening with Cold. He pouted, perking up and asking hopefully, "What about tomorrow? I'd really-" 

"I'll let you know," Cold said sternly, tucking in his shirt and fastening his belt. He slid on a shoulder holster, a quick glint of silver flashing as he checked his guns. 

Barry had never noticed Cold carrying before; not until last night. He didn't know anything about guns, but he could see that Cold's were silver and big with pearl handles. 

"Is... is everything okay?" Barry asked softly. He could sense a dangerous tension brewing in Cold as if he was preparing for battle. 

"Fine," Cold said, well, coldly. He disappeared into his closet to finish getting dressed unseen. 

"Okay..." Barry frowned, deciding to roll back over to nap. Cold was clearly not in a talkative mood, and Barry was a little offended by his brisk attitude. Last night had been full of so many intimate moments, and Barry thought he had finally made a crack in that icy armor of his. 

Apparently not. 

Barry sighed, pulling the blankets up over his shoulder and closing his eyes. He heard Cold coming back towards the bed, but remained as he was, intent on ignoring him. 

"Don't sleep all day," came a rumbling purr in his ear, so close that it startled him, long fingers petting through his hair. 

Barry couldn't help but smile in surprise, his cheeks warming up at the sweet affection. Maybe he had made a little more progress than he first thought. He opened one eye to peer up at Cold standing over him, replying playfully, "I can make no such guarantee." 

Cold scoffed, pulling away to adjust his tie. "Lisa will come by to see you later. She'll have paperwork for you to sign." 

"Paperwork?" Barry rolled back over to face Cold, frowning. 

"You're a new employee," Cold said dryly, "There is a standard contract for all our performers. There are also tax forms you need to fill out and vital statistics that we need for your employee file... driver's license, social security card." 

"Seriously?" Barry was surprised. "This is what you meant by a new deal?" 

Cold snorted, retorting sharply, "I do run legitimate businesses, Mr. Allen." 

Barry grinned, laughing at the idea of Cold being concerned with W-9's. 

Cold rolled his eyes at Barry's giggling, saying slowly, "I'll text you later if anything changes. Keep your phone close." 

"And thank you for that, by the way," Barry chirped. "I never did get a chance-" 

"I've added the purchase price to your balance," Cold said with a smirk. "Once you're more fiscally stable, the monthly bill will also be yours. Understood?" 

Barry groaned, but nodded. "Yes, sir." 

"Good," Cold said, turning to leave, "Goodbye, Mr. Allen." 

"Bye," Barry sighed, flopping around in bed. He heard the doors shut as Cold left, pouting to himself. He couldn't fall back asleep, finally sitting up with a loud groan. He saw Cold had left him a small card as usual. 

_$223,208.18_

_I'll see you soon._

_LS_

Hardly a love letter, but Barry smiled all the same. He got dressed back in his tux, slinging the jacket over his shoulder and grabbing his mother's jewelry box. 

On his way out, he paused to get a better look at Cold's den. Last time he was here, Lisa been waiting for him, and he didn't stop to look at any of them. Now that he had a moment, he was curious. There were a few photographs and vintage concert posters, all framed and hung with great care. 

There was a picture of a little girl and Cold, perhaps in his twenties and his hair already starting to gray. The girl was sitting in his lap and she was grinning, proudly showing off a missing tooth. Barry grinned when he recognized the little girl as Lisa. 

There was another one of Lisa as a teenager, dressed up for a formal dance of some kind. Her hair was a giant brown bouffant of teased out curls, and she was wearing a neon blue sequined dress. 

An elderly gentleman and Cold were in the next photo, sitting together in the cab of a big truck. The man looked too old to be Cold's father, and Barry doubted that he'd keep any pictures of him anyway considering the history. Maybe it was his grandfather. 

The last photo was tiny, but the frame was thick and heavy as if to help protect it. It was an old Polaroid of a young woman with smooth ebony skin and a smile that reeked of mischief. Her thick hair framed her face like a smoky cloud with white lilies pinned behind her ear. 

Cold's mother, Barry realized with a small smile, Suzanne. 

She was beautiful. 

The lilies were the same kind as those scattered all throughout the house, Barry realized. He also noticed that one of the concert posters hanging up was hers, advertising a show from the early seventies. It was bright and colorful, a heavily stylized art nouveau image of Suzanne singing. 

Barry was sad knowing that these images might be the only things Cold had of his mother to remember her by. He never even got to meet her. While Barry mourned his own mother's loss deeply, he at least had a few years of good memories to treasure. 

Cold had but a single Polaroid and an old poster. 

Barry headed downstairs, finding Jerry the limo driver and part time chef ever diligently cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and there was no sign of Lisa. When Barry inquired, Jerry politely informed him that she was still recovering from last evening's celebratory activities. 

"Crap, I gave her my house key," Barry sighed miserably. "I really need to go home." 

"Ahem, monsieur," Jerry said, reaching into his pocket and offering out the key to Barry's apartment. 

"Jerry," Barry said with a bright grin as he took back his key, "You really are amazing." 

"Oui," Jerry chuckled heartily and winked, offering Barry a full plate of eggs and bacon. 

Barry ate every bite before Jerry graciously gave him a ride back home. He was so happy to be in his own apartment. It was so easy to get carried away in a fantasy when he was with Cold. His home wasn't fancy and new, but it was his. 

It was grounding. 

It helped remind him that he had a life beyond his deal with Cold. He had an innocent father in prison he still needed to free, bills to pay, a college education to finish. He had a life. 

But when he was with Cold, all of that faded away. He became a slave to that smooth voice, and his velvet words were an incantation designed to summon Barry's most intimate self. The hint of danger made it even more titillating, and Barry couldn't deny the thrill it gave him. 

Deeper than the superficial carnal pleasures, their time together was giving Barry a purpose; and it was one he could actually fulfill. He hadn't been successful freeing his father or getting a degree, all of his shortcomings leaving him feeling like a failure. 

But on a nightly basis wrapped up in Cold's seductive tones, he was always victorious. 

He was always _good_. 

Barry puttered around his apartment, changing out of his rumpled tux and into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He tried to keep busy, straightening up and doing the few dishes he had left behind. 

He carried his mother's jewelry box into his bedroom, placing it reverently in the top drawer of his dresser. He laughed when he found his new socks and new underwear were neatly folded in his drawers. 

He looked through his closet, amazed at how full it was. Everything they had purchased was hanging neatly in plastic from the dry cleaners', his new shoes lined up together on the floor. 

Barry thumbed through the new clothing, wondering if it wouldn't be a bad idea to get rid of some of his old clothing. Some of it was pretty terrible, but he didn't want to get too spoiled with his current lifestyle. 

It was temporary, he knew. Unless he managed to woo Boss Cold before the last night of their arrangement together, he would probably end up selling most of those nice clothes and be right back in rags again. 

Barry didn't want to think that way, deciding to stay positive and start snatching some of his old clothing from the rack. He threw it behind him, making a pile on the floor to donate. 

"Hellooo!" Lisa's musical voice sang out, letting herself in Barry's front door. She had her giant purse under her arm, grinning cheerfully at Barry as she strolled into his bedroom. 

"Hey! Uhm," Barry stammered in surprise. "How... how did you get in here?" 

"Uh, duh," Lisa drawled with a long roll of her eyes, "I had a copy of your key made. Now, awww, look at you. Had a good night, huh?" 

Barry pressed his hands over his face as if he could hide the blush coloring his cheeks, mumbling, "It was fine!" 

"Mmmmm," Lisa hummed, waggling her eyebrows, "Axel told me you and Lenny were having a lovely time making sweet music together? Don't worry, I won't tell Cisco what you guys did on his piano, but he's gonna find out." 

Barry's face reddened even more, groaning, "Oh, my God." 

Lisa quirked an eyebrow at the clothing scattered across the floor, squealing excitedly, "Oh, my God is right. Are we finally having a bonfire?" 

"No?" Barry protested, "I'm just, you know, clearing out some stuff. I'm going to donate it." 

"Barry," Lisa said slowly, taking a deep breath, "Homeless people wouldn't use your nasty clothes to wipe their asses with. Burn it. Put those poor rags out of my misery." 

"No," Barry said stubbornly, "I'm going to donate it. Take some of my good luck and you know, pay it forward." 

Lisa made a face, setting her purse down and joining him in clearing out the closet. "You're hopeless," she said affectionately, "You're way too sweet to be a mafia boyfriend." 

"Yeah, yeah... hey, wait!" Barry exclaimed when Lisa's indiscriminate trashing had reached a faded black t-shirt, pleading, "No, not that one." 

Lisa quirked a slim brow, staring down at the shirt. It was a ragged old AC/DC shirt. "Are you serious?" 

"It's sentimental," Barry said, grabbing it back with a defiant pout. 

"Oh, your Dad's?" Lisa with an understanding nod. 

"Mom's actually," Barry chuckled, "It's from the Razors Edge Tour. She was a huge fan. She dragged my dad all the way to Paris to see them on their honeymoon. She always used to joke that it was the night I was conceived." 

"Awww, that's so cute," Lisa said with a sweet smile, continuing to pillage Barry's old clothing and throw them aside. 

"Yeah," Barry laughed as he hung the precious shirt back up, "Most people were like, wow, Paris for your honeymoon? How romantic! Not my mom. Paris, pfffft. She only wanted to go there to rock out with AC/DC." 

Lisa's smile took a softer turn, tilting her head. "Mom was a little bit of a groupie, huh?" 

"Well... let's just say there's a good chance that Brian Johnson might be my real father," Barry giggled. 

Lisa laughed, chucking the last of the clothing that failed to pass her standards into the pile on the floor. "Need to cash in that, you know. Oh, maybe that's where you got those pipes from!" 

"Hey, maybe!" Barry grinned. "Wouldn't mind some of that rock star cash." 

"Speaking of those beautiful pipes," Lisa teased, twirling around to retrieve her giant purse. "It's paperwork time, sweetie." 

"Right," Barry said dutifully, leading Lisa to his kitchen table to start filling out forms. She used her cell phone to scan his identification, helping him fill everything out. 

The last form left was the contract. 

"Now," she said, tapping her nails across the paper, "I can't say that this is exciting as your, ahem, current arrangement with my brother? But it's more than fair. Twenty five hundred a night, two nights a week guaranteed. I wanted more, but Lenny wouldn't let me. He, cough cough, wants to keep your evenings open." 

Barry was dumbfounded. "That's... that's five grand a week." 

"Yeah, for two nights of singing pretty. Plus, weekly rehearsals. You need to get up with Cisco and work some shit out." Lisa ran her fingers through her hair, all business as she said, "Your first set was good. Keepin' it nice with the classics, but new stuff with a jazzy twist? Mama likes. Figure out some three to five song sets. I'll give you some wiggle room with modern stuff as long as you change up the feel." 

"Got it," Barry said earnestly. 

"I'll give you all of this week to practice with Cisco and figure out your wheelhouse of tunes," Lisa went on, "But I want you back on stage by Friday. That's Lenny's birthday. We're having a huge party at the club, and uh, duh, you're going to sing for him." 

Barry gulped. 

"Any questions?" Lisa chirped. 

"Not... at the moment?" 

Lisa reached into her magical purse, pulling out a check and passing it over. "For last night. Now remember. As an independent contractor, you're responsible for keeping some moolah aside to pay your own taxes. Blah, blah, blah. Got it?" 

"Got it." 

"Mmmm, I'm thinking Wednesdays and Fridays for you," Lisa said with a happy purr, "I'm so excited to see you sing again. But! Definitely wanna make sure you and Ciscie have time to work your sets out. I'll text you his number. See if he can meet you at the club tomorrow afternoon." 

"Okay," Barry said, taking a deep breath. Five grand a week. He was still stunned. It wasn't quite fulfilling his dream of working at a prestigious law firm helping those in need, but it was a hell of a paycheck. 

He could get all of his stuff out of Maury's shop, put money in his father's commissary account, and try to find a new lawyer. He could get his life back on track no matter how this deal with Cold ended. 

"Now!" Lisa declared, stashing the papers all away, "All work and no play makes Lisa a very, very bored girl." She grinned wickedly. "Unless you already pawned it, there's a blender here, and it's time to party." 

"It's like, four o'clock in this afternoon on a Sunday!" 

"Pleeeaase?" Lisa said with a mournful pout. "I wanna drink and go out dancing tonight. You know you wanna go out with meee." 

Barry rocked back and forth on his heels, indecisive. He knew he didn't officially have an appointment with Cold this evening, but he hoped he would change his mind later. "I don't know... I've only been home for a few hours, and-" 

"And what? Do you need to throw more stuff in the burn pile?" Lisa whined. "Barry, I'll go ahead and help you out. Just burn everything in here and start over." 

Barry snorted, still arguing, "I was kinda wanting to stay unoccupied in case Cold... uhm. Needed me." 

"He's gonna be pretty busy tonight," Lisa said with a thoughtful glance at her nails. 

Barry remembered how tense Cold seemed this morning, asking softly, "Is everything okay?" 

"Peachy," she replied quickly, smiling innocently. 

"Does this have to do with the Three Stooges being in Central?" Barry asked stubbornly. 

Lisa pursed her lips, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Maaaaybe." 

"Who are they?" Barry pressed. When Lisa started staring off at the ceiling and humming loudly, he tried again, "If you tell me... I'll go out tonight with you." 

"Ughhhh, fine," Lisa groaned, accepting defeat all too easily with a proud smile. "Look at you, bribing people for information. Maybe you do have what it takes be a mafia boyfriend!" 

Barry couldn't help but feel a little smug, and the word 'boyfriend' made his ears burn. 

"Okay," Lisa said, her nails eagerly tapping against the table. "Here's the tea. Larry, Curly, and Moe? Luigi, Cristian, and Matteo... Santini." 

Barry's breath was lost, his eyes widening in surprise. "You mean... the same Santinis that Cold ran out of town?" 

"Yup. That's them. Don Louis' boys. You see, after Louis was killed, they started an all out war amongst themselves to see who would get Daddy's crown. They all accused each other of killing Louis, and no one would fess up. It was a blood bath for years. Total chaos." 

"And that's when Cold took over," Barry supplied, blinking slowly. 

"Yup," Lisa said proudly, "My big brother is all about opportunity. After a few years of the Santini brothers trying to murder the crap out of each other and exhausting all their resources, Lenny got his Rogues together. He waited for the perfect time and made his move. He drove them all out and made Central City his bitch." 

"So, wait," Barry stuttered, trying to keep up, "Who killed the Don?" 

"Who knows," Lisa said with a shrug. "Maybe Matteo. He's a total shit. I mean, we're technically like third cousins or something? But fuck them. Everybody thinks Lenny did it to start the little gang war, but all he did was jump at the beautiful opening those idiots gave him. He didn't kill Louis. One of his shitty kids probably did." 

"But all of them are back," Barry continued to press, "The three sons. They're here in the city. That's what they told Len last night. I mean, Cold." 

Lisa scrunched up her face, sighing, "Yeaaah. Which is super shady. The Santinis finally learned to play nice and they rebuilt in Star City, but they still have a lot of ties here. Who knows. They might just be in town for a wedding." 

"Or they're planning something," Barry said slowly. 

Lisa tapped Barry's nose. "Gold star for you!" She hopped up, heading into the kitchen and pulling several bottles of alcohol out of her purse. "You don't need to worry. Lenny is a big boy, and he can handle this." 

Barry frowned, watching Lisa fetch the blender and mix up a fruity smelling batch of drinks. He didn't feel very reassured, a knot starting to twist up in his stomach. He hadn't really thought about it, but Cold was in constant danger. 

Rival gangsters, the cops; he wondered if that was part of why Cold made such an effort to keep him at arm's length. Maybe the distance was to protect him. 

Lisa found the Christmas mugs in the cabinet, filling the reindeer with alcoholic slush and handing it to him, cheering, "Drink up!" 

Barry cringed at the tart bite when he took a sip, asking, "God, what's in this?" 

"Raspberry vodka, orange vodka, sweet and sour mix, blue curaçao," Lisa rattled off the ingredients with a smirk, "But I sort of fucked up the portions, so it's mostly a shit ton of raspberry vodka". 

Barry shook his head, trying to stomach the sweet concoction as he took a few more sips. Lisa had already finished hers and was pouring another. 

"Come on," Lisa said with a clap of her hands, "It's dress up time!" She marched straight to his closet, and Barry didn't even try to stop her. 

He followed, grinning as she picked out slim black jeans, a white dress shirt, and a red blazer. She pawed through his drawers, pulling out black suspenders and a red bow tie to match the jacket. 

Barry couldn't deny Lisa had excellent taste, more than happy to let her pick out his clothing. 

"Wear your sneakers again," she said, pointing at his feet, "And, oh! Where's that ring? That pretty ruby one?" 

"From my mom?" Barry said with a blink. 

Lisa kept digging until she found the jewelry box, humming happily as she picked it out. "Yes. This one. You should totally wear it! It's fuckin' gorgeous. Red is definitely your color." 

Barry took the ring, trying it on his fingers. It fit pretty well on his right ring finger, glancing down at it. It was beautiful, although he wished it was clean. "Maybe," he said, "I mean, I just got all that stuff back. I don't want to lose it." 

"You won't lose it," Lisa assured him, "Now, hurry up and get dressed!" 

"Yes, ma'am," Barry chirped obediently, laughing as Lisa gave him some privacy to get ready. When he stepped out of his bedroom, she pounced to make some adjustments and fix his hair. 

Lisa also made sure Barry finished his drink before they left and when they got in the limo, she had Jerry take them out to eat first. Lisa insisted on paying for their food, ordered more drinks, and by the time they finally arrived at the club Barry was already quite tipsy. 

As they walked up to the door, Barry gawked at the line of people waiting to get in. All Lisa had to do was smile at the bouncer and he opened the door immediately, greeting politely, "Have a fun evening, Miss Snart!" 

"Thanks, babe!" She blew the bouncer a kiss, dragging Barry inside with her. "Come on, Barry! Let's fuckin' boogie!" 

Rain was the name of the club, a massive two story building with a dance floor on each level and four bars in total. It was loud and noisy, surprisingly full for early evening on a Sunday. Lisa held Barry's hand, practically skipping onto the dance floor as infectious techno music thundered through the speakers. 

Lisa was a fantastic dancer, moving flawlessly even in her tall heels. She grinded her body down to the floor and popped effortlessly back up with a smooth curl of her spine, rocking to the music without ever missing a beat. 

Barry wasn't too bad on his feet, moving his hips along. He was loose enough to let himself go and relax. He threw his hands up, enjoying the thrum of the bass pounding beneath his sneakers, twirling around laughing. 

He couldn't remember the last time he had been out dancing, giggling when Lisa grabbed his hands and gave him a spin. They had both managed to dance off their buzz after several songs, panting and sweating. Sensing sobriety approaching like an alcoholic superhero, Lisa led Barry off the floor and to the closest bar. 

"The usual, Miss Snart?" the bartender asked as they sat down, smiling brightly. 

"Please!" Lisa replied, waving at Barry. "And whatever he wants." 

"Uhm, appletini?" Barry asked politely, grinning when Lisa gave him a thumb's up. 

"Having fun?" Lisa chirped happily. 

"Yes! I'm having a blast!" Barry replied, surprised as their drinks appeared almost instantly in front of them. 

"Here you are, Miss Snart," the bartender said, "Please let me know if you need anything else." 

Barry's appletini had quite a punch and Lisa's margarita reeked of tequila. He noticed no money was exchanged, Lisa humming happily as she sipped at her drink. 

"Okay, you've gotta tell me," Barry laughed, "Does everybody here know who you are?" 

"Whose club do you think this is?" Lisa giggled, "It belongs to the Rogues, sweetie." 

"Really?" Barry cackled. He should have known. He sipped at his drink, bouncing his hip to the music. 

"Yeah," she replied, smiling sweetly. "Stick with me, sweetie. I'll show you just how good it is to be gangster royalty." 

One drink turned into two, and then into a few rounds of shots before Lisa deemed them intoxicated enough to get back on the dance floor. 

They danced until Barry's legs were begging for mercy, retreating back to the bar for another round. 

Barry plopped on the barstool, stripping off his jacket and groaning, "Holy crap, no more!" 

Lisa cackled, still standing and continuing to shake her hips as they waited for their drinks. "Wussy," she teased sweetly, "Just take a breather. I'm gonna go make a few requests in a minute." 

"Can I request crutches?" Barry laughed, rubbing his aching thighs. 

Lisa giggled, thanking the bartender when their new drinks arrived. She turned back to Barry, snorting, "Come on, it's not that bad." 

"Nah," Barry conceded with a grin, "Just whew. It's been a while, and-" 

"Hey, Lisa," a voice called out, two men approaching them with friendly smiles. 

Barry didn't think much of it; after all, almost everyone here seemed to know Lisa. 

"What the fuck do you want," Lisa spat, her eyes narrowed viciously. 

Barry blinked, surprised at the sudden burst of venom, glancing at the men. That's when he noticed that their friendly smiles were a little too friendly, and Lisa had picked up her glass as if to throw it right at their faces. 

"Just being friendly, cous'," the taller of the two said with a sneer, staring at Barry. "Huh. This must be Cold's new chippie." 

Barry gulped, instinctively backing up into the bar. He didn't like how these men were looking at him one freakin' bit. "Who are you exactly?" he asked nervously, "And how do you know who I am?" 

"The tall and ugly one is Vincenzo and the short and stupid one is Gary," Lisa answered for them, snorting disgustedly, "From the very shallow end of the Santini gene pool. Pretty fuckin' sure you know that you're not welcome here." 

"Pretty sure it's a fuckin' free country," Gary snapped in reply. 

Vincenzo grabbed Barry's wrist, his nasty glare moving to the ring on his finger, scoffing, "Nice bling. Daddy Cold give you that?" 

"Hey, get your freakin' hands off me!" Barry barked, trying to wrench his arm away. Vincenzo wouldn't let go, staring in confusion at the ring, and Barry grunted, cursing loudly, "Hey! Come on! Fuck you, dude!" 

Vincenzo still wouldn't release him, and that was the exact moment everything went very wrong. 

"You stupid cock guzzling son of a bitch!" Lisa growled, her temper flying hot and swinging her foot back, driving her heel into Vin's crotch. 

Vincenzo fell like a sack of potatoes, groaning in pain. He started crying when Lisa kept kicking him, screaming, "I will fucking kill you! You motherfucking dick weasel! Don't you ever fucking touch him!" 

The patrons around the bar had scattered, screaming in alarm and trying to get out of the way. 

Barry was frozen, his heart racing so fast he couldn't draw breath, feeling it skipping beats and jumping up into the back of his throat. He watched in horror as Lisa kept driving her foot into Vincenzo's crotch, screaming like a banshee. 

"You crazy fuckin' bitch!" Gary shouted and grabbed Lisa around her shoulders, yanking her backwards. She tried to smash her drink into his head, but missed, roaring in frustration as she tried to wiggle away. Barry lurched forward to intervene, but he suddenly couldn't breathe. 

Wait, no, he _really_ couldn't breathe. 

Vincenzo had somehow managed to get back on his feet despite the beating his manhood had taken, dragging Barry into a tight headlock. Barry clawed desperately at Vin's forearm, watching helplessly as Gary pulled Lisa's hair and swung back to hit her. 

His blow never landed, strong hands seizing Gary's arm and snapping it at the wrist with a sickening crunch. He screamed, a quick strike to his throat sending him gasping and choking down onto the floor. 

Barry couldn't even see who their rescuer was at first, the man moving too quick for him to make out and his vision was getting fuzzy. Vin was suddenly gone from behind him, howling in pain. Barry gasped, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath and holding his throat. 

Lisa wrapped Barry up in a big hug, demanding breathlessly, "Fuck, are you okay?" 

"I'm fine! Are you?" Barry panted, his head spinning from all the adrenaline. 

"Fine! What fucking assholes!" Lisa growled, still holding Barry but turning her body enough so she could kick Gary right in the face. 

Barry saw Vincenzo bleeding from a busted nose, probably broken, curled up on the floor behind him. Giant bouncers quickly arrived to drag him and Gary away, calming the crowd. Their rescuer was casually dusting himself off, turning around to flash them a wry smirk. 

Kyle Nimbus. 

"Well, that was fun," the hitman crooned with a light chuckle, "Santinis feelin' mighty brave today, aren't they?" 

"Fuckin' assholes," Lisa muttered, cradling Barry protectively. 

Barry stared dumbly up at Nimbus, mumbling, "I... wow. Uhm. That was... intense. Thank you." 

Nimbus shrugged, his dark eyes locking with Barry's. "You're family. It's what we do." 

Barry's face heated up, not even sure what to say to that. He didn't know how he should feel about being an honorary member of the Rogue family; flattered, terrified? Both? 

Barry was dizzy, pulling away from Lisa and collapsing against the bar. All the alcohol was rushing up from his stomach, and he was instantly nauseous. He groaned, pouting miserably. 

Lisa fussed over him, petting his hair and cooing, "Hey, are you okay?" 

Barry shook his head, whining, "Yeah, no. Pretty sure I'm gonna be sick." 

Nimbus made a face, speaking quickly to Lisa, "Get him back to the limo. Some prick has probably called the cops by now. I'll be right behind you." 

Lisa nodded, urging, "Come on, Barry." 

Barry moaned pitifully as Lisa dragged him outside. Every step was torture, and his stomach was sloshing violently. He gasped, shaking his head in protest of the inevitable. He promptly threw up on the sidewalk, groaning at the smell of liquor wafting back towards him. 

He whimpered, drunkenly panting, "I don't think I wanna be a mafia boyfriend any more." 

"Oh, sure you do," Lisa soothed, petting Barry's back in soothing little circles. 

Barry puked again, coughing and hacking. "Fuuuu-uck." 

"Okay," Lisa said sweetly, "We'll work on it, sweetie? Okay?" 

Barry vomited one more time, nodding. "Yup. Okay." 

"Let's go, sweetie." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this was a long one! I was going to cut it down some, but I couldn't live without a single word. Sorry if it drags! Eep!
> 
> More drunk!Barry shenanigans coming up by popular request. Thank you so much for all the love!
> 
> Getting pumped for Coldflash Week! Wooooo! <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry recovers from his exciting evening.

Barry crawled into the back of the limo with help from Lisa and Jerry. He stretched out across the backseat, his head in Lisa's lap, swearing to himself that he would never drink again. 

"Where are we going?" he asked numbly. 

"Home," Lisa said, gently petting Barry's hair. "We're going home." 

The door popped open, Nimbus shouting, "Let's fuckin' go, Jerry!" He sat down opposite Lisa and Barry, helping himself to some liquor from the bar. 

The limo took off, Barry groaning as his stomach lurched in protest. 

Nimbus grabbed an empty champagne bucket, shoving it at Barry as he said, "Here." 

"Thanks," Barry mumbled, pushing his face into it. The metal felt cool against his flushed skin, swallowing back a streak of bile trying to crawl up his throat. 

"You're Doc's kid." 

"Who?" Barry looked up at the hitman, frowning. 

"Henry Allen," Nimbus replied, "The Doc." 

"You... you know my Dad?" Barry asked with a loud belch. He coughed, mumbling, "Sorry." 

Nimbus didn't seem to mind, saying, "Yeah. Doc takes care of most of the guys in Iron Heights when they're fucked up. They're too afraid of the infirmary staff, those pricks are fuckin' butchers. But not your old man. Stubbed toe, shanked, whatever. Inmates all go to him." 

"Did he ever help you?" Barry asked curiously. 

"Nah, but I did send him a lot of business while I was in," he replied with a dark chuckle. 

Barry felt sick again. 

"Doc is a good man," Nimbus said, his expression one of admiration. 

"I'm trying to get him out," Barry sighed into the bucket, "He doesn't belong there." With people like you, he thought, but didn't dare say out loud. 

"Only innocent man in Iron Heights," Nimbus agreed. 

Barry blinked, sniffing softly as he asked, "You think he's innocent?" 

"I know he is," Nimbus snorted, "Trust me, kid. I know what a killer looks like. Your old man? Ain't got what it takes." 

"Thanks..." Barry nodded, finding the comment strangely reassuring. If only a judge would accept Nimbus' instincts as admissible evidence, he thought crazily to himself. He closed his eyes, trying not vomit any more, letting Lisa's long fingernails dragging through his scalp soothe him. 

"You okay?" Nimbus asked, speaking to Lisa. 

"I'm good," she replied softly, as if she thought Barry might be asleep. 

"Your bar tab says otherwise," he drawled, clearly not believing her. 

"You got a problem, Kyle?" 

"No problem, just concerned," he replied. 

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said sternly. 

They didn't say another word until they got back to Cold's estate. 

"Wakey wakey, drunky drunk," Lisa chirped, gently rubbing Barry's shoulder. "Let's get you inside and get you all better." 

Barry whined like a petulant child, groaning, "Fuck, I am never drinking again." 

"Lies," Lisa giggled, helping him sit up and stumble out of the limo with Nimbus' assistance. 

They came through the front door, each with an arm around Barry, dragging him through the foyer and into a small sitting room. They propped him in a chair, Lisa patting his head and saying, "Just stay put, sweetie. We're gonna go check in with Lenny, okay?" 

Barry pressed his hands over his face, nodding slowly. The whole room was spinning, and he really did not want to be upright for much longer. "Okay." 

He heard her heels clacking away as she departed, sighing miserably. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the nausea as hard as he could, slumping down in the chair. 

Barry realized he could hear voices somewhere close by. 

The Rogues were all here. They did not sound happy. 

"You mangled one of the Santinis?" A loathsome screech; James. 

"Only broke his arm, should be thankful we didn't leave their bodies in a fucking ditch." Nimbus, angry. 

"They shouldn't have fucking been there at all! Now that Matteo's back, they're all getting uppity as fuck." Mardon, maybe. "Three couriers got jumped today, all by Santinis." 

"We'll handle it." Cold, smooth and calm as always. 

"We should kill them all," Thawne's nasty voice snapped, loud and furious. "We look weak sitting around like idiots! One of those couriers was mine! They got his entire payload! Over a hundred grand!" 

"I will not allow us to be dragged into a war to appease your wounded pride," Cold replied icily. 

"They assaulted your sister, your boy! What will it take for you to act?" 

"Cool it, Thawne," Cold purred, so quietly that Barry had to strain to hear him. "I've already heard from Matteo... He sends his humblest apologies for the misunderstandings we've had today. He wants to set up a meeting, both families all together for a nice little picnic." 

"Bullshit," rumbled Nimbus. 

"Why are they trying to disrupt the peace now?" Another voice chimed in, smart, quick. Hartley. "Is it because of Dickie? Do they really think you're gonna go down for that? What does the CCPD have on you?" 

"Not enough, or they would have arrested me by now," Cold replied smugly. 

"I won't let that happen," Lisa's voice rang out, "If they try to, I'll tell them-" 

"You'll do nothing," Cold snapped suddenly, "I've got it handled." 

"And Detective West?" Hartley pressed. 

"Mr. Allen doesn't know it, but he's given me exactly what I need to take care of our dear detective once and for all," Cold said with a very satisfied chuckle. "Mick just came back from seeing Geemaw earlier today, didn't ya', Mick." 

"Sure did," Mick rumbled, "She made cookies. The peanut butter ones with the little chocolate kisses in them." 

"Lovely," Hartley said, and Barry could practically hear him rolling his eyes. 

"What about the Santinis?" Thawne demanded, ever restless. 

"Later," Cold said briskly, his voice getting closer and now Barry could hear his footsteps. "Make sure all the couriers have armed escorts, and put extra men down at the bank. But no one makes a fucking move until after I've met with Matteo." 

"But-" Thawne protested, but fell silent immediately, undoubtedly having receiving a death glare of epic proportions from Cold. "Fine..." 

"Now, all of you," Cold commanded, "Go." 

Barry heard a rush of footsteps as everyone began to leave, the front door slamming shut. 

"Should put a bullet in that one," Mick growled. 

"Not yet," Cold replied quietly. 

"It would be _his_ couriers that got robbed," Lisa mused. 

"I've got it under control," Cold said, his voice firmer. "Come on." 

"Need a hand, boss?" Mick offered, snickering loudly. Cold must have said yes, because now Barry could hear two sets of feet approaching. 

"Take good care of him," Lisa commanded, "He's had a hell of a night." 

"Mmhmm," Cold hummed, "Good night, Lisa." 

"And I meant what I said. If they try to arrest you, I'm not letting you go back to jail," she said defiantly, the click clack of her heels fading out as she stomped up the stairs before Cold could reply. 

"Hell of a woman," Mick said affectionately. 

"Hell of a pain in my ass," Cold countered. 

"That, too," Mick chuckled, "C'mon. Let's get your boy." 

Barry opened up his eyes slowly when he heard shuffling in front of him, staring up at Mick and Cold now standing over him, waving as he greeted cheerfully, "Hi!" 

"Heya, Twig," Mick snorted with a grin. "Have a fun time?" 

"I got choked, and then I threw up all over the sidewalk. Maybe in the limo. Can't remember." 

"Sounds like a fuckin' fun time to me," Mick laughed, reaching down and scooping Barry up into his arms as if he were a baby. "Let's go, Twig." 

Cold led them upstairs to his bedroom, telling Mick, "I got him from here." 

"You kids have a lovely evening," Mick rumbled softly, setting Barry gently down on the edge of the bed and taking his leave. 

"Bye Mick!" Barry called out, waving cheerfully. He grinned dopily up at Cold, chirping, "Hi." 

"Are you all right?" Cold asked quietly once they were alone. Concern was openly written all over his face, softly touching Barry's neck. 

"It's fine, I'm fine," Barry said, shaking his head. "Just... despite how much I puked, I'm still kinda drunk." 

Cold slowly began to undress Barry, tugging at his bow tie and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. He raised his brow, telling him sternly, "You're going to take a hot bath and then probably eat something. If you puke in my bed, I am not going to be happy." 

"I won't," Barry promised, leaning heavily into Cold's hands. "I mean, I will try really hard not to."

Cold snorted, kneeling down to untie Barry's shoes. 

Barry stared down at him, asking hesitantly, "What did you mean... what did you mean that I gave you what you needed to get Joe." 

"Eavesdropping, were you?" Cold began to pull Barry's socks off, glancing up at him. 

"Couldn't help it," Barry admitted, "It's like you guys were speaking in code! I just wanna know... I wanna make sure you're not going to hurt him." 

"No," Cold replied, standing back up and pulling Barry's shirt right over his head instead of bothering with the rest of the buttons. "We made a deal, remember? No physical harm will befall Detective West, but I am going to make sure he never bothers me or my family ever again." 

"How?" Barry pushed, pouting. 

"Joseph West is a liar, and now I have proof," Cold said, quick fingers tugging at Barry's pants and suspenders. "That's all you need to know." 

Barry continued to pout, wiggling his hips as Cold finished undressing him. He began to tug at the ruby ring, grumbling when it wouldn't come off. He stuck his finger deep in his mouth to get it wet, Cold staring at him as he sucked and licked around it. "What?" 

"Nothing," Cold said, his eyes still fixated on Barry's lips. 

Barry was able to finally pop off the ring, setting it on the bedside table with a soft clink. 

"Where did you get that ring?" Cold asked softly, as if speaking to a startled animal. 

"Mom," Barry replied, grunting as Cold pulled him to his feet. "My mom's. It was in her jewelry box." 

"What if I wanted to offer you a deal." 

"Another one?" Barry laughed, smiling easily and brazenly resting his hands on Cold's hips. "Don't we have enough deals?" 

"For the ring," Cold said quietly, gently prying Barry's hands away. "What if I was to forgive your entire debt?" 

Barry's heart stopped on the spot, horrified. No more debt meant no more arrangement which meant no more nights together. "Why... why would you do that?" 

"Is it not a generous offer?" Cold asked, raising his brow. 

Barry was stung instantly, too softened by the alcohol to even pretend he wasn't upset, replying angrily, "And that's it? One ring and it's all over?" 

"Didn't realize that ring meant that much to you," Cold replied sourly. 

"You mean that much to me," Barry protested passionately, on his feet and glaring at Cold even as his guts churned and his legs wobbled. 

Cold looked surprised, his hands resting on Barry's shoulders to steady him. His eyes narrowed, expression darkening and speaking slowly as he said, "Mr. Allen, I think you're forgetting what this is... between us. This is business." 

"You're so full of shit," Barry challenged. 

"Excuse me?" Cold's fingers flinched ever so slightly, squeezing Barry's shoulders a little harder. 

"You are full of shit," Barry repeated without hesitation. 

"Mr. Allen, you're drunk." 

"And you're an asshole!" 

"Careful now," Cold hissed, "I'm willing to overlook your intoxicated behavior, but-" 

"Why can't you just say it?" Barry pleaded, his eyes beginning to tear up, "Just admit you have feelings for me! Something! Anything!" 

Cold's hand snapped around Barry's neck, growling furiously, "There is nothing to admit! You're a warm body and a hot mouth. Nothing more. Take the deal." 

Barry scoffed and grabbed Cold's wrist, nostrils flaring as he spat, "You're a fucking asshole, _and_ you're a goddamn liar!" 

Cold yanked Barry close, so close their breath was mingling together, his icy eyes burning with rage. 

Barry refused to back down, squeezing Cold's wrist tighter, growling, "I don't know why you keep trying to hurt me, you know I don't believe a fucking word of it. Just because you're too much of a fucking coward, I don't-" 

"You stupid fucking kid," Cold seethed, giving Barry a rough shake, "Don't you fucking get it? You could have been fucking killed tonight!" 

Barry's eyes widened, the truth right there in front of him, and there was no way it could be taken back. 

Cold did care. He cared so much. He was afraid for Barry. 

Barry's jaw hung open, realizing in horror that Cold was right. The men who had assaulted him and Lisa could have done so much worse. 

What if Nimbus hadn't been there, what if the bouncers weren't fast enough, what if... 

What if they'd had a gun. 

Barry knew he should take the new deal and run as far away as he could. He would be a target as long as he stayed with Cold. He could keep the job at the club, sing for a few months, save up his money. He could get his life straightened out, work on getting his father freed, and never see the gangster again. 

But he couldn't. 

It was stupid and incredibly dangerous, but so was what he felt for Cold. The sensation was without compare, making his heart ache so sweetly whenever the man was near. 

He couldn't give it up. 

Cold's hand was still wrapped tight around Barry's neck, his chest heaving as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His usually stoic face was raw and and hurting; for the very first time, Barry saw Boss Cold look uncertain. 

"But I wasn't," Barry soothed softly, alarmed to see Cold so vulnerable. He swallowed thickly, saying, "I'm still here." 

Cold's eyes were wild, uncertain. His entire body was tense, ready to run, whispering, "Yes, you are." 

"And I'm still yours," Barry said, pressing his naked form against Cold's fully clothed one, gently squeezing his wrist. 

The words seemed to calm Cold down, moving a hand down the small of Barry's back. "Yes," he confirmed with a breathy sigh, "You are." 

Barry pressed as close as he could, smiling as Cold released his neck to stroke his fingers through his hair. He gently rested his hands on Cold's chest, taking a deep breath as he said, "I'm not going anywhere... we have an arrangement, right? I'm going to hold up my end of it. Are you?" 

Cold had resumed his confident persona, though his eyes were softer as he looked over Barry's smiling face. "I suppose this means you're declining my offer for the ring?" 

"Definitely," Barry sighed. 

"You're a fool," Cold said, his palm brushing over the top of Barry's ass. 

Barry arched his hips, nodding in agreement. "Probably." 

Cold's fingers slid between Barry's cheeks, teasing at his hole. He let a dry fingertip breach him, smirking as Barry squirmed and gasped. 

"You're willing to risk your life for this?" Cold asked thoughtfully. 

"Everything," Barry whimpered as Cold's fingers continued to stretch and tease him. 

"What?" 

"I'd risk everything," Barry said earnestly, his eyes locking with Cold's. 

Cold pursed his lips in concentration, as if he was debating Barry's sincerity. "You really would," he said after a moment, his gaze focused on Barry's lips. 

"Yes, sir," Barry said, moaning happily when he was rewarded with another teasing slide of Cold's fingers. 

"I'm not a good man, Mr. Allen," Cold murmured, "I might just be selfish enough to let you." 

"So. Our deal?" 

"Remains unchanged," Cold replied softly, "But I still do want that ring." 

Barry was confused, asking, "Wait, why?" 

"Let me have the ring, and I will personally oversee getting your father's case reopened at my own expense," Cold said, both hands now squeezing Barry's cheeks and spreading them. "I'll make sure he's freed from prison." 

"Really?" Barry was stunned. He tried not to let himself get distracted, but fuck, it was hard to think straight with Cold touching him. "You would... mmm, fuck, you would do that for me?" 

"For the ring," Cold corrected smugly. 

Barry remembered the way that Santini guy had looked at the ring. The initials. There had to be something he was missing, something important right in front of him, but he couldn't focus with Cold's probing fingers and the promise of his father's freedom being waved in front of him. 

It was from his mother's jewelry box, and he hated to part with anything of hers. But he didn't even know where that particular ring had come from, and if Cold meant what he said... 

"Yes," Barry agreed, nodding, "If you free my father, the ring is yours." 

"Ring first," Cold countered, "Courts will take time." 

"No, free my Dad first," Barry argued, gritting his teeth as Cold traced little circles around his hole. "Then... then you can have it." 

"No, I need it now," Cold insisted, popping one of his fingers into his mouth, sliding the slick digit between his cheeks. 

"Why... why is it so important?" Barry panted, groaning when Cold's finger began to press inside of him. "It's not... it's not really my mom's, is it?" 

"The less you know, the better," Cold said firmly, sinking his finger in until Barry cried out. He nuzzled his mouth over Barry's ear, murmuring, "When it's time, I will tell you everything. But now, I need you to trust me." 

Barry rocked his hips back against Cold's hand, mumbling, "Mmm, thought you said I shouldn't..." 

"Still true," Cold said with a smirk. 

"Fine," Barry groaned, wiggling defiantly, "You can have it. Just please... help my Dad." 

"I will," Cold promised, pressing his lips against Barry's forehead in a tender kiss. 

Barry's heart ached at the simple affection, absolutely overjoyed. He couldn't begin to imagine the legal resources that Cold had at his disposal. If anyone would be able to help his father, it would be him. 

Barry wanted to know the importance of the ring, but he trusted Cold to tell him the truth eventually. More than ever, his belief in Cold was absolute. Whatever this was between them was growing stronger with every passing day. 

He knew he was falling for Cold, head over heels, and it was insane for so many reasons. He was a gangster, a thief, and murderer; but there was no one else Barry ever wanted to be with. 

Cold didn't show it in conventional ways, but there was no doubt in Barry's mind now that he cared for him deeply. 

"Now," Cold said with a soft sigh, "Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?" 

Barry nodded, smiling as Cold took his hand and led him into the bathroom. Cold turned on the water, blazing hot, taking Barry's hands and helping him into the tub as it filled up. 

Barry sank down into the water, groaning appreciatively. He blinked when he saw Cold adjusting the lights, dimming them until the bathroom was almost completely dark. "What are you doing?" 

"Joining you," was the short reply. 

Barry's eyes widened, and he resisted the urge to squeal. 

Holy fuck. 

Cold was getting naked. Okay, it was too dark to see anything, but he was taking off his clothes. All of them. 

Barry struggled to make out anything in the darkness, only able to catch a lean silhouette as Cold stripped down quickly. He turned off the water and tapped Barry's shoulder, indicating for him to scoot forward. 

Barry obediently moved, grinning like a fool as Cold slipped in behind him. He leaned back, savoring the feeling of hot skin pressed against his own. He could feel Cold's cock digging into him, grinding slowly against it. 

Cold's arms wrapped around Barry's waist, fingers gliding over his stomach and holding him in place. "Easy," he purred, "Tonight... just relax." 

Barry squirmed for a moment, but relented, letting himself melt against Cold's warm body. 

Cold's hands moved, a bottle clicking, and then there was a cloth slowly scrubbing across Barry's body. He started with his arms, his hands, letting their soapy fingers tangle together. 

"Feels good," Barry sighed, letting his swimming head rest across Cold's shoulder as he continued to bathe him. 

"You smell like bile and Goldschlager," Cold snorted, moving around Barry's neck and chest. "I'll get you a toothbrush before we go to bed." 

Barry barked out a laugh, defending, "Hey, it's your sister's fault. She's a bad influence." 

"Mmm, yes, she can be very persuasive," Cold agreed with a soft chuckle. 

"Must run in the family," Barry suggested, "I mean, you always seem to get what you want." 

"Indeed I do," Cold drawled and leaned his cheek into Barry's hair, hands moving down his lean stomach and over his hips. 

Barry couldn't hold back a faint groan, Cold's touch always waking up something ravenous deep inside of him. He tried pressing Cold's hand down to where he wanted it, down between his legs, but Cold suddenly flinched. 

Barry let go immediately, putting his hands on the side of the tub to get them out of the way. He had pushed too far, waiting for a swift punishment. 

"Keep that up, Mr. Allen," Cold purred in his ear, his hands barely grazing the tip of Barry's cock, "And I may have to tie you up." 

Barry shivered, stuttering, "Y-you know, threatening me with that may have the opposite effect of what you want..." 

"Why? Would you like me to tie you up?" Cold asked plainly. 

"Yes, sir," Barry replied, his fingers squeezing the sides of the tub as Cold brushed over his cock. He whined, trying to thrust up into his hand. "Please... I want you to. Tie me down to the bed, a-and-" 

"Not tonight," Cold said briskly, setting the washcloth aside and rubbing his hands down Barry's thighs. 

"But, sir, please-" Barry began to protest.

Cold's hand pressed against Barry's neck, firm but gentle, drawling, "Mr. Allen, you'll take what I give you or you'll get nothing. Do you understand?" 

Barry whined, but nodded. "Yes, sir..." 

Cold kept his hand around Barry's throat, reaching down with the other to slowly trace over his cock. He was already hard, trying to stay calm, trying to be _good_. 

Barry forced himself to relax, keeping his hips firmly planted down. He sighed longingly, letting Cold tease and pet him all he wanted. He remained boneless and pliant, closing his eyes. 

"Good boy," Cold purred, rewarding Barry with his long fingers curling around the shaft of his cock, squeezing softly. 

Barry moaned triumphantly, smiling brightly. God, yes, he was good. His chest filled to the brim with pride, gasping as Cold began to slowly jerk him off. 

The pressure was just right, Cold squeezing his hand a little tighter on every upstroke and massaging his thumb below the head of Barry's cock. Barry was squirming in moments, his back arching when Cold began to speed up. 

Cold pressed his mouth against Barry's neck, his lips softly touching the edge of his ear, the corner of his jaw. He sucked possessively, a hint of teeth, but not enough to leave a mark. 

Barry leaned into it, shivers racing all up and down his spine. This was the closest they had ever been, nothing separating their bodies as Barry writhed against him. Cold was lean, but much thicker than Barry was. All that muscle, God, he wished he could see it, touch it. 

"Please, sir," Barry pleaded between gasps, "Can I please touch you?" 

"No," came the firm reply, Cold's hand working his hand over Barry's cock even faster. 

Barry grunted in frustration, his hand slapping the side of the tub. He yelped when Cold squeezed his cock so hard it hurt, whining, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Take what I give you," Cold reminded him.

"But... I just want it so much, sir," Barry pleaded, heat coiling up tight between his legs, ready to give way at any moment. 

"No," Cold snarled, his stroking slowing to a snail's pace. 

Barry sobbed, desperately clawing at the side of the tub. Fuck, he was so close, Cold's fingers dangling him right at the edge of ecstasy. 

"You're mine," Cold hissed, nipping at Barry's ear roughly, "But I am not yours. Don't you ever forget that." 

"Yes, sir," Barry cried, moaning when Cold finally granted him mercy and started feverishly jerking him off. He was right there, eyes wide as he moaned, "Fuck, fuck, can I come? Please, God, let me come, sir." 

"Now," Cold commanded, biting at Barry's neck, "Come for me." 

Barry let himself go, gasping as he came hard into Cold's palm. His hips jerked softly, thrusting a few times before he was instantly spent. He relaxed against Cold's body, sighing pleasantly. 

"Good?" Cold asked with a smile on his lips. 

"Mmmmph," Barry hummed. "Very... What about you?" 

"I'm fine," Cold assured him, "I enjoyed it very much." 

Barry stretched his legs in the cooling water, asking quietly, "You really are gonna help my Dad?" 

"I said I was going to, and I will," Cold said simply. "Now... come on. It's late." He herded Barry out of the tub, Barry humming happily as Cold dried him off and wrapped him a warm robe. 

Barry managed to steal a quick glimpse of Cold's lovely backside when he opened the door of bathroom and light flooded in from the bedroom. It was over too quickly, Cold quickly tucked away in a robe of his own. 

He put Barry into bed, leaving him to change into modest pajamas while Barry stretched out to take up as much of the mattress as he could. 

Cold snorted when he approached, drawling, "You have six seconds to move before I make you move." 

Barry groaned playfully, rolling over to let Cold slide into bed beside him. The moment Cold was settled in, Barry immediately cuddled back up to him, burying his head into his shoulder and throwing an arm over his chest. 

Cold allowed it, his hand gently resting on Barry's wrist. "Good night, Mr. Allen," he said, his eyes already closing. 

"Good night... uhm..." Barry stuttered for a moment, not sure how to address the gangster now. 

"Len," Cold said softly, sensing Barry's hesitation. "Here in my bed, you can call me Len." 

"Good night, Len." 

"Night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, tiny visit from the smut fairy! Agh, I miss you all so much! I promise I will be back at home and updating regularly soon! Enjoy this chapter and all my Coldflash Week shenanigans! <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry has a very bad day.

Barry woke up to an empty bed, and the ring was gone from the bedside table. His head throbbed lightly, but he felt pretty good considering all the events of last night. He grabbed Cold's pillow, hugging it tight and inhaling his scent. 

Len. 

Cold had said he could call him Len. 

It was always two steps forward and one step back with Boss Cold, but Barry knew those steps backwards were getting smaller every day. 

He rolled over to grab his phone, smiling when he saw he had a new message from Cold. There was no card this morning, he noticed. That was odd. 

Barry wondered if Cold had just forgotten about it though that seemed unlikely, flipping through his phone to get to the text message. 

_You have work today. Be there by noon._

_I want you back by midnight. Do not be late._

_LS_

Again, not a declaration of undying love, but at least he was going to see Cold tonight. He turned the camera on, feeling a little flirty. He made sure his robe was wide open, snapping a quick selfie of himself from the waist up, smiling sleepily up at the camera. 

He sent it to Cold with a quick message: 

_Can't wait. ;)_

He didn't expect a response, but waited a few moments all the same, hopefully watching his phone. He looked up when he heard a door open, sitting up as heavy footsteps began to approach. 

Barry tensed up, frowning at the unfamiliar sound. 

Definitely not Lisa. 

The bedroom doors swung open and in walked Mick Rory. 

"Wow, uhm, hi," Barry babbled, dropping his phone to his lap. 

"Good morning, Twig," Mick rumbled with a big smile, "Me and you get to spend quality time today, Boss' orders." 

"Me and you?" Barry blinked in surprise. 

"Yup," Mick replied shortly. "Boss has a big meeting tonight, wants me to keep an eye on you." 

"Then who's keeping an eye on Cold?" Barry demanded with a frown. 

Mick snorted, "Ain't you a sweet one. Trust me, he can handle himself. 'Sides, he's got the rest of Rogues with him. He'll be just fine." 

"Okay," Barry said, sighing and pulling his robe a little tighter around himself. 

"Get up, get dressed," Mick ordered, "Got shit to do." 

Barry frowned, seeing his outfit from last night neatly folded down by the chaise at the foot of the bed. "I'll need to go home," he said, "I need to change clothes, uhm, I have a check to cash..." 

Mick looked annoyed, asking grumpily, "What else? Gotta your hair did, too?" 

"No! I just, you know, have things to do," Barry pouted. 

"Hurry it up, Twig," Mick rumbled, "I'll be waiting." 

Barry waited for Mick to leave before quickly getting dressed. He grabbed his phone and scooted downstairs to find him. 

The giant was in the kitchen, stealing bacon right out of the pan while Jerry yelled and cursed at him in French. 

Barry watched in awe as Jerry fearlessly threatened to bash in Mick's head with the frying pan. Mick was not impressed, swiping another piece and barking at Barry, "Eat up!" 

Barry grinned, quickly accepting a plate from Jerry before Mick could eat it all. He watched them bicker, giggling all the while. Mick was hardly fluent, but apparently he did know how to say some pretty vulgar things in French. 

Barry finished eating, Mick leading him outside and cheerfully calling over his shoulder, "Au revoir, jackass!" 

Jerry screamed something in French; it didn't sound nice and was likely slandering Mick's mother. 

Mick's car was parked out front, a slick black El Camino with gray and white flames streaking down the sides. He waved for Barry to get in, cranking it up as he mused, "Sorry it ain't a limo." 

"No! It's great!" Barry laughed, running his hands over the dash. "1979, right?" 

Mick smiled, toothy and big, proudly replying, "Yup. Bought it when me and Boss were in tenth grade. The first time." 

Barry was surprised, inquiring curiously, "You've known Cold that long?" 

Mick rolled his shoulders, cranking the car and replying, "Oh, yeah. We were beatin' kids up for their lunch money since kindygarten. Came from the same hood. Grew up together." 

Barry smiled at the thought, shaking his head as Mick pulled out from the compound. He had so many questions, asking immediately, "Really? So, you're like best friends?" 

"Brothers," Mick corrected, driving along at cruising speeds. "We're family." 

Barry thought about what Nimbus had said the other night, biting his lip softly. "I've never really had anybody like that." 

"Sucks for you," Mick remarked in genuine sympathy. 

"Well, there's my Dad," Barry said, "But... I guess you know." 

"Prison." 

"Yeah," Barry sighed, "Hopefully not for long." 

"Boss is workin' on it," Mick reassured him. 

"He told you that?" 

"Ain't nothin' he don't tell me," Mick chuckled thickly. 

"So..." Barry fidgeted, watching the city flash by as they drove, wondering if he should even bother asking. "Does Cold... does he really..." 

Does he really care about me. 

"Twig," Mick sighed heavily, cutting him off, "If you have to ask me, you obviously ain't been payin' attention." 

"What do you mean?" Barry asked with a frown. 

"You think he does this for every fuckin' body?" Mick laughed heartily. "Think he asks me to babysit every twink he's been fuckin'? Nah. He's a hit it and quit it kinda guy. But you, well. You do somethin' to him. Got him all stirred up." 

"I do?" Barry blinked, smiling shyly. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mick scoffed, "Thought you were supposed to be college educated and shit. Wake up, Twig. I knew he was fucked the moment you two fuckin' met." 

"How," Barry pressed, eager for any insight. 

"Uh, 'cause he didn't break your fuckin' hands when you grabbed him?" Mick snorted. 

Barry decided to take that as the compliment it was meant to be, looking out the window. "Why... why doesn't he like that. Being touched, I mean." He swallowed slowly. "Is it because of Lewis?" 

Mick didn't say anything, his eyes glued on the road. 

Barry recoiled from the silence, worried he had made a terrible mistake for digging. "Look, I'm sorry for asking," he said quickly, "I just... I don't want to fuck this up." 

"Ain't my place to tell you," Mick replied. 

Barry tried not to let his disappointment show through at being denied an explanation, asking, "So, what do I do?" 

"Whatever the fuck you've been doing," Mick chuckled, "Just be patient. Boss needs time. Don't take it personal. 'Cause it ain't about you, it's about him. Lotta hands been on him, and all they did was hurt for a long time." 

Barry thought of the glimpse of scars he had seen before, so much pain packed into a small swath of flesh. 

A lot of hands, Barry thought Mick's words ever, immediately jumping to the worst conclusion. 

Did that mean Lewis wasn't the only one abusing Cold? 

He didn't dare ask, but he had to wonder. 

They pulled up to Barry's apartment, Mick escorting him upstairs and waiting patiently while he changed into a t-shirt and jeans. He freshened up, grabbed the check Lisa had given him and let Mick lead him back to the car. 

"What's your bank?" Mick asked, pulling back out into traffic. 

"Uhm, well, I don't exactly have one," Barry said with a sheepish smile, "I used to bank with Central City First? But my account is super in the hole." 

"So, where the hell we goin'?" 

"You know Martine's Pawn?" Barry said shyly. 

"You bank with Maury the Mouth?" Mick chuckled. "The loan shark?" 

"Yeah," Barry laughed, "You know, the benefits are really good. There's no overdraft fees, free checking, never have to wait in line." 

"Cute. You'll need to get set up legit at some point," Mick pointed out, "Especially with you and Cold gettin' cozy, pigs will use anything they can to get to him." 

"Got it," Barry said, nodding firmly. 

They pulled up to Maury's shop, Mick squinting as he looked around. 

"Hey, I know this place," Mick said as they got out, pointing at the store next to Maury's. "Used to be a jewelry store, right?" 

"Yeah," Barry said, "My mom used to work there. It's how my family met Maury." 

"It was a fuckin' front," Mick said with a laugh, "The Santinis used to launder their money through here." 

Barry was horrified. "Are you serious?" 

"Yeah, 'cause me and Boss used to run the cash," Mick snorted. "One of our first jobs together when we were kids." 

"My mom was working for the mob?" Barry hissed in disbelief. 

"Ah, I'm sure they went straight at some point," Mick said with a shrug. "Come on, Twig." He herded Barry into the shop, the bell ringing and announcing their arrival. 

Maurice came out of the back, calling out, "Who's the fuck is that?" 

"Hey, Maury! It's me, Barry!" he replied cheerfully. 

"Yo! Is that... holy fuck, Mick fuckin' Rory," Maurice blinked when he saw Barry wasn't alone. "What the fuck, I've had like half the fuckin' Rogues in my shop all in a week." 

Mick grinned, reaching out a big mitt to shake Maury's hand, laughing, "Big fan of your work." 

Maury snorted, grinning wryly as they shook hands. "Pretty sure I busted up a few of you Rory's back in the day, you know." 

"Yup. Got my old man once or twice with that crowbar of yours for not payin' up," Mick said with a smug smirk. 

"Hey. Just business, Mr. Rory," Maury said, holding out his hands. 

"Bah, shoulda hit him in the head with it," Mick chortled, "I ain't worried about it." 

"Dead men can't pay," Maurice said sagely, "But men with busted knee caps sure fuckin' can." 

"Wise words," Mick said with an appreciative nod. 

"So," Maury said, glancing between him and Barry, "What can I do ya' for? Here to get more of your shit outta hock?" 

"Not exactly. I don't have a bank right now, so you're the next best thing," Barry said cheerfully as he endorsed the check and handed it over to Maury, "I want to start actually saving, and yeah, I do wanna try getting some of my stuff out eventually. But I want to put like five hundred in my dad's commissary and stash the rest for now." 

"Look at you, big fancy fellow," Maurice teased, whistling when he saw the check. "I take it this means your audition went well?" 

"Sings like a little canary, this one," Mick teased. 

Barry blushed, shrugging his shoulders. "Hey, you know, it's a job. I'm officially employed again. I'm doing okay!" 

"Uh huh," Maurice said dryly, "And is that why I heard about you gettin' roughed up by some Santini pricks?" 

Barry frowned, fidgeting nervously. "You know... you know about that?" 

"Come on, kid," Maurice snorted, "Who the fuck you think you talkin' to. I hear everythin'." His eyes moved to Mick, sizing him up as he mused, "Like, hmmm, heard somebody been visiting Geemaw." 

"Who is that?" Barry quirked a brow. He remembered Cold and Mick talking about her last night. 

"Geraldine Peters. Old gangster's girl," Maurice supplied, shaking his head with a fond smile, "Used to be my girl from time to time as a matter of fact. That woman helped make a man outta me. Was a clerk for the CCPD. Did all of their filing until she was, ahem, forced to retire." 

"What happened?" Barry asked cautiously. 

"Apparently she had a bad habit of copying police case files and other sensitive type documents," Maury chuckled, "Meh, she'd only been doin' for fifty years before anybody got wise to it. Nowadays, if somebody goes to Geemaw, somebody's lookin' for information." 

Mick narrowed his eyes, scoffing, "You really do got a big ass mouth, Maury." 

"Guilty as charged," Maurice replied easily. "Just kinda funny to me that anybody would be buggin' ol' Geemaw for somethin' at her age. Must be lookin' for some real good dirt." 

Barry sensed a flicker of anger simmering in Mick. He wasn't sure what Maury was trying to get at, but he could tell Mick was getting pissed. 

"So, Mick tells me the Santinis used to run the jewelry store?" Barry said, quickly trying to change the subject. 

"A long time ago," Maurice said with a shrug, "Used to wash their cash over there. But it was legit when Nora worked there if that's what you're wondering about. I mean, gangsters still went there to get their bling fixed up and shit. But it was a straight joint until it closed." 

Mick's phone buzzed, glancing down for a moment. He eyed Barry, saying, "I gotta take this. Be ready to go in five, Twig." He looked at Maury, shaking his hand again as he grumbled, "Don't be tellin' our boy here any stories now." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Maurice replied with a firm smile. 

Mick stepped outside to answer his phone, Barry whirling around to stare at Maurice, hissing, "Hey! What was that about!" 

Maurice reached across the counter, smacking Barry upside the back of the head, snapping, "What the fuck have you gotten yourself into! Fightin' with Santinis, sniffin' around Geemaw!" 

"What's the big deal with this lady?" Barry protested, rubbing his head. 

"She's the one you go to when you're trying to dig up dirt on fuckin' cops," Maury explained, "Whatever Cold is up to, it ain't good, kid. I love you like my own, and you need to get the fuck out." 

Barry immediately recalled what Cold said about having proof about Joe being a liar, and his stomach turned. 

"Are you hearing me?" Maurice snapped. 

Barry took a deep breath, saying firmly, "I'm okay. I know what I'm doing." 

"No, you fucking don't," Maurice countered. 

"I swear, it's okay! That's why I have Mick with me! I'm-" 

"Heart! Dick! Remember!" Maury snapped, "Listen to yourself, kid. This was just supposed to be a deal-" 

"It's not," Barry said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I don't know what it is, but it's... it's something else now. Okay? Cold cares about me, and I care about him. Look, he's gonna help me get my Dad out, all right?" 

"And what did that cost you?" Maury demanded. 

Barry didn't want to answer, pouting defiantly. "He's gonna help. That's all that matters." 

"Be careful, kid," Maurice said, a frown curling his long lips. "Stayin' alive matters a lot, too." 

Barry nodded, smiling gently. "I know it does, and I don't plan on anything happening to me." 

"What you plan and what actually fuckin' happens is rarely the same thing, kid," Maurice laughed bitterly. 

Barry stuck out his tongue, replying, "Yeah, yeah. Look, will you please put that money in my dad's account for me?" 

"You got it, kid. And I'll shove the rest in a mattress for you. Just don't make me spend it on a funeral, you fuckin' hear?" 

"Is it really... that bad?" 

Maurice gave him an incredulous stare, sighing, "Kid. It's really not good. Cops are all nervous with the Santinis back in town, the Rogues are all over the place trying to maintain control. Cold is makin' sure no one starts a war, but if the Santinis keep pokin' at him... they're gonna get one." 

Barry frowned softly, his concern immediately going out for Cold. 

Len, he thought to himself. He was worried about Len. 

"Take care of yourself, kid," Maurice said, glancing towards the door. "Mick's waitin' on you." 

Barry looked back to see a very impatient looking Mick waving at him, nodding at Maurice. "Okay, I'm going, and yes, I promise I will be super careful," he reassured his friend. "I will not get caught up in any gang wars." 

"I'll remember you said that," Maury snorted, "See ya' round, kid." 

Barry said farewell and rejoined Mick at the car. Mick didn't say much, turning up the radio as they drove. He made a few stops, always instructing Barry to stay put while he went inside. 

A barber shop, law office, liquor store, gas station. 

Barry spent his time flipping through his phone, looking up music. He was trying to get some inspiration for what he might perform for Cold's birthday. 

By the time Mick returned from the last errand, it was already close to noon. "Time to get to work, Twig." 

Barry nodded, staring out the window as they drove down to club. He was surprised to see a flock of giant suited men as they pulled up, a few of which he recognized from the hotel. 

Mick guided Barry inside, Cisco already up on stage by his piano waiting for him. Barry blushed all over when he remembered all the things he had done on that piano, smiling shyly. 

"Hey!" Cisco greeted cheerfully, waving, blissfully ignorant of what debauchery that had occurred right where he was sitting. He frowned when he saw Mick following Barry, quirking his brows at all the suits in tow. "What's going on?" 

"Everything's fine," Mick rumbled, sitting down at a table close to the stage. The other men scattered around the club, all taking various defensive positions. "Totally fine." 

"Uh, no," Cisco said with a frown, "The last time I saw this many goons? You were getting somebody ready for a wooden onesie. Is it the Santinis?" 

"Hearin' things?" Mick asked casually, still not answering Cisco's question. 

"Just that the Santinis are back, wanting to make a move against Cold," Cisco replied, lightly tapping one of the pianos keys. "They figure he's gonna go down for killing Dickie, and the Rogues won't be able to hang on without him." 

"Huh," was all Mick said. "That so." 

Cisco looked annoyed at not having any of his information confirmed, sighing and looking over at Barry. "So! Lisa tells me we have a big ol' birthday party to get ready for?" 

"Yes!" Barry replied, clapping his hands together. "I'm gonna be singing with you guys like twice a week now, so I know I have a ton to learn-" 

"Hey, hey," Cisco reassured him, "You'll be fine. You're a super quick study, and I can totally send you some of the music to work on at home." He cracked his knuckles, racing his fingers over the keys. "What I wanna hear about now is what you're planning on doing to make Cold's birthday an event to remember." 

"Well," Barry grinned, scratching the back of his head. "Actually, I do maybe have a few ideas." 

"Cool!" Cisco laughed, cheering, "C'mon, Buckaroo. Let's see what you got cookin". 

The next few hours were spent rehearsing Barry's songs that he had picked out for the party. A few Cisco made faces at and nixed immediately, but one or two he was excited about reworking for the show. 

They had almost completed the set list, and both Cisco and Barry were pretty proud of the final number they had come up with. Cisco was grinning from ear to ear as they finished, laughing, "Oh, this is gonna be so good." 

Even Mick seemed to dig it, chuckling, "Can't wait to see the Boss' fuckin' face. I still say you should pop out of a big cake, though." 

"No cake," Cisco groaned, "That's for like, bachelor parties and cheesy strip clubs. This is gonna be classy, but you know, with some teeth." 

Barry beamed proudly, hoping Cold was going to enjoy it. They had worked so hard, and he was excited for Friday to get here. He looked at Cisco, asking, "Okay. So, you wanna run through it one more time?" 

"From the top," Cisco agreed, fingers running over the keys of his piano to play again. 

Mick's phone went off, lumbering to his feet as he answered it, rumbling, "Talk." He looked up at the stage, frowning as he listened. He didn't seem to like what the person on the other line had to say, growling, "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me." 

Barry quirked a brow, asking carefully, "Everything okay, Mick?" 

Something was wrong. 

"You two," Mick barked, pointing at him and Cisco, "Stay put until I get back." 

Barry frowned, looking back worriedly at Cisco. 

Cisco shrugged, calling out to Mick, "Hey! What's going on?" 

"Stay the fuck put, I said!" Mick snapped, heading towards the front of the club. Two of the suited men went with him, guns already drawn. 

Barry backed towards the piano, his heart thumping with dread. "What the crap is going on?" 

"I have no fuckin' idea," Cisco said, gulping audibly. He was up on his feet, worry creasing his brow. "But I have a bad feeling about this." 

Two gunshots rang out, Barry jumping and gasping, "Oh, fuck! What the fuck!" 

The rest of the suited men bolted to the front of the club, more shots firing. 

"Okay, time to go!" Cisco grabbed Barry's arm and started dragging him towards the back of the stage as more shots went off. 

"But Mick said-!" 

"Who do you think is probably being shot at right now?" Cisco hissed, wincing at another round of gunfire, "We've gotta get the fuck out of here! Now!" 

"Who is that out there!" Barry demanded. 

"Do you really wanna stick around and find out?" Cisco snapped. "Obviously they're very bad people that are way more bad than the bad people we work for! Let's fuckin' go!" 

Barry found himself being shoved through the curtains, Cisco pushing him towards a narrow hallway. He was scared, his heart climbing up into the back of his throat and stumbling as he tried to hurry to the door. 

He hoped that Mick was okay, and he wished like hell that Cold was here. 

"This way," Cisco said quickly, "We'll go out through the back, and my car is parked right there." 

"Okay," Barry said, trying to focus on Cisco's voice and keep his anxiety at bay. They were almost there. The door was right there. 

Barry reached for the knob, but the door swung open before he could grab it. He yelped, backing away when he saw Vincenzo Santini leering at him. 

"Just who I was lookin' for," Vincenzo sneered, pointing his gun right at Barry. His nose was bandaged and both of his eyes were bruised from his scuffle with Nimbus. He did not look happy to see Barry at all. 

"Oh, God," Barry gasped, his chest beginning to tighten, staring down the barrel of Vincenzo's gun. He felt Cisco's hands grab his shoulders, leaning against him as he panted fearfully. 

"Where's the ring?" Vincenzo demanded. 

"The r-ring?" Barry was flabbergasted. The hell was the big deal with that stupid ring. He shook his head, stuttering, "I-I don't have it! I gave it to Cold!" 

"Meh," Vincenzo shrugged. "Ain't that a fuckin' shame. Guess we don't need you then, huh?" 

Barry's eyes widened, terror making his blood freeze and his breath catch. "Wait. What?" 

The gun fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo, a cliffhanger! HAHAHAHA! Okay, I swear I'll post again as soon as I can and try not to keep you guys in suspense for too long. 
> 
> Still out of town, so I apologize for the slow response in replying to comments/posting, etc. x_X
> 
> Thank you so much for all the love! Hugs and kisses! <333


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnn!

"Get down!" Cisco screamed, grabbing Barry and slamming him to the ground. 

Barry felt white hot pain burning his arm, grunting when Cisco landed right on top of him. His ears were ringing from the gunshot being in such close proximity, the world spinning around him in a violent blur. 

There was another shot, and Barry thought that was it. Vincenzo had killed him. He could feel something hot oozing down his neck, he could smell blood. He thought it was his own blood, gritting his teeth together and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. 

He thought of Cold in those moments; his velvety voice purring in his ear, his rare smile that made Barry's heart skip a beat, those icy blue eyes that melted his very soul. He wished Cold was here. He wanted to see him one last time. 

No, not Cold. 

Len. 

Another shot nearly shattered Barry's eardrums for how close it was, and there was a loud thump in front of him. 

Barry gasped, his eyes fluttering open to see Vincenzo Santini spread out on the floor next to him. There was blood pouring out from his mouth, and his eyes were lifeless pools. 

He was dead. 

"Oh, Christ," Barry yelped. 

"What the fuck!" Cisco was shouting, shifting off of Barry as they both scrambled to back away from the corpse. 

Barry felt sick, trying to move, trying to get up. 

Mick was standing over them, his gun in his hand, his face terribly concerned. He was reaching for Barry, and he was yelling something. He had shot Vincenzo. He had killed him. 

Holy shit, Mick had killed him. 

Barry couldn't breathe, and he had no idea whose blood was all over him. It couldn't all be his own. He could hear Cisco and Mick talking, but they seemed so far away. He couldn't make much out over the ringing in his ears anyway. 

Mick had grabbed his shoulder, was trying to help him up, but Barry's legs wouldn't work. They were too wobbly, too weak, panting erratically as he pushed Mick's hands away. He couldn't believe how much blood there was, his eyes rolling back in his head before he was swallowed up by darkness. 

He passed out. 

Barry woke up to the faint beeping of medical monitors, groaning softly. His right arm felt tingly and sore, his head heavy with the weight of drugs. He tried to move, but his wrist was trapped by something. 

He blinked open his eyes, staring blearily down to find he was handcuffed to the bed rail. He was in a hospital, Central City General if he had to guess. 

His right upper arm was bandaged tight, and he was wearing one of those ridiculous gowns that didn't allow for a shred of dignity when the wearer was not laying down. 

At least all the blood was gone now. 

"Hey," croaked a soft voice, "Welcome back to the world of the living." 

Barry turned his head to see the second bed in the room with him was occupied by Cisco. "Hey!" 

"You've been out for like an hour," Cisco said, frowning, "They doped you up pretty good." 

Barry tugged forlornly at the handcuff, asking, "What the crap happened? It's all... fuzzy." 

"Santinis," Cisco replied with a light groan, "Hit the club. They attacked two other Rogue properties. All at the same time." 

"Is Cold okay?" Barry asked immediately. 

"Yeah, come on," Cisco snorted. "He's fine. I'm fine, too. Thanks for asking." 

"You... you saved me," Barry said with sudden clarity, gazing adoringly at his friend. "You pushed me out of the way." 

"Yeah," Cisco said with a wry smile. "Bullet still grazed you, but don't worry. I caught it with my shoulder." 

"Shit." Barry could see Cisco's shoulder was bandaged and his arm was in a sling. 

"Shit is right," Cisco scoffed. "I don't know what I was thinking." 

"Thank you," Barry said with a warm smile. 

"Hey, let's try not to make it a habit, okay?" Cisco laughed weakly. 

"What's with the cuffs?" Barry noticed Cisco was also locked down to his bed. 

"That's the CCPD for you," Cisco snorted. 

"Are you serious?" Barry blinked, rattling the cuff in protest. "We didn't do anything wrong. We're victims, not suspects!" 

"Witnesses," Cisco corrected. "Three people are dead, more wounded." 

Barry swallowed thickly, a flash of Vincenzo's lifeless eyes making his stomach churn uncomfortably. "The ring," he said quietly. "He was asking about the ring." 

"What ring?" Cisco asked quietly before throwing up his uninjured arm. "Nope, wait, never mind! I don't want to fuckin' know!" 

Barry heard the discharge of radio static, glancing up at a large window that looked out into into the hallway. The blinds were cracked and he caught a glimpse of someone in uniform. "Cops?"

"Yup. Been waiting for you to wake up to take our statements," Cisco said with a long sigh, "Best thing to do? You didn't see anything, you don't know anything. Got it?" 

Barry frowned, letting his head drop back against the pillows. "Got it," he sighed, closing his eyes. 

There was a sudden flurry of activity outside in the hallway, raised voices and cursing. Barry looked over to see the officer trying to keep someone back, sternly saying, "Sir, you need to wait out here." 

"Fuck you, dickless," a familiar gruff voice raged, "I'm Barry Allen's motherfuckin' healthcare power of attorney, I got every right to be here! Get the fuck outta my way!" 

Barry's face lit up in an instant, grinning. Oh, he knew who that was immediately. 

Maurice Martine. 

The door swung open so hard it slammed against the wall, Maury stomping into the room and leering at Barry, snorting, "Can you believe that prick? Tryin' to keep me outta here. Dumbass don't know who he's fuckin' with!" 

The officer did not look pleased, but made no more effort to stop Maury from coming in. 

"Hey, Maury," Barry greeted, giving a little wave with his good arm. 

"Are you all right, kid? They treatin' you okay?" Maury hurried over to the side of Barry's bed, his eyes were as big as saucers and wet with tears when he saw the bandage. "Fuck, kid." 

Barry was touched, smiling sweetly. He had never seen Maurice look so concerned, assuring him, "I'm fine! It's just a scratch, I swear!" 

"Are ya' sure?" 

"Yes, I promise." 

Maurice reared back and smacked Barry on the top of the head, snapping, "You dumb fuckin' kid! I fuckin' told you to be careful! I fuckin' told you-" 

"Owww! What the hell, Maury!" Barry whined, rubbing his head and pouting. 

"Jesus!" Cisco groaned in sympathy. "Give Barry a damn break!" 

"Hey! Fuck you!" Maury snarled, whirling around to glare at Cisco. "I know I don't know ya's, but yeah, fuck you!" 

"That's Cisco," Barry sighed. "He tried to help-" 

"Nice to meet you, Cisco! Now, kindly fuck off, and lemme tend to my business!" Maury growled, turning back to smack Barry again. "Stupid motherfuckin' mentally irregular fuckwad!" 

"Ow! Damn, Maury!" 

"Dumbass!" Maury seethed. "I done fuckin' told you to stay outta trouble!" A few tears slid down his cheeks, his long lips twisting into an anguished grimace, pulling Barry against his chest. "I told ya's... fuck." 

Barry clung to Maurice, trying not to cry. The danger of this life he had chosen was real. It was here, inescapable, and it had almost killed him. If Cisco hadn't moved when he did, Maurice really would have been using that money for a funeral. 

"Fuck, kid... don't you ever fuckin' scare me like that again," Maurice said firmly, kissing Barry's forehead. "I'm gonna have a fuckin' talkin' to with motherfuckin' Cold about keepin' your scrawny ass safe." 

Barry laughed weakly, smiling tearfully up at Maurice. He had no doubt in his mind that his friend would. 

"I'm worried, kiddo." Maurice petted Barry's hair, affectionately patting his cheek as he sighed, "Things ain't good out there, kid. Streets is talkin', and they are gonna be bloody." 

Barry frowned, asking dumbly, "Did I really get stuck in the middle of a gang war?" 

Maury snorted, shaking his head as he said, "It's a fuckin' mess, that's for sure. And listen, do you remember that big ol' shiny ruby ring? The one in your mom's jewelry box? I heard some crazy shit today, and I'm startin' to think that ring used to belong to-" 

"Knock, knock," a voice at the door said, knuckles rapping at the frame, "Nice to see everybody is awake now." 

Barry stared at the doorway, his stomach doing another violent round of churning when he saw Detective Joseph West standing there. 

"Oh, just fuckin' fabulous," Maury groaned, rolling his eyes. "The fuck do you want." 

"I need to talk to these young men about the shooting at La Belle earlier today," Joe said in a professional, firm tone. 

Barry hated that voice, Joe's 'cop voice'. He glanced at Cisco, looking back to Joe as he said quietly, "We didn't see anything." 

Joe stepped closer, his hands firmly planted on his hips. "I find that pretty hard to believe," he said sternly, "Considering you were covered in Vincenzo Santini's blood. A DNA test will confirm it, but your clothes have already been taken as evidence." 

All Barry could see was splashes of red, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. "He shot me," he said quietly, "I saw the blood... I just... passed out." 

"Did you see who shot Mr. Santini?" Joe asked directly. 

Mick's scowling face appeared in his mind's eye, shaking his head. "I don't... I can't be s-sure," Barry stuttered to reply. "No clue." 

"I think we both know you're lying," Joe pressed relentlessly. "Who shot Vincenzo Santini." 

"Uhhh..." Barry's cheeks flushed with warmth, melting beneath Joe's piercing glare. "Somebody with... a gun?" 

"Barry, you need to help us out here," Joe said firmly, "Tell me who killed Vincenzo Santini." 

"He didn't see nothin'," Maury growled, resting a supportive hand on Barry's shoulder, "You fuckin' ugly _and_ deaf?" 

Joe rolled his eyes. 

"What's the matter?" Maury taunted, "Can't threaten Barry with outin' him as a snitch no more, so now you're trying to play good cop again? Go get fucked on a traffic cone, Joe". 

"What he said," Cisco agreed. 

"Barry, listen to me," Joe said quietly, his cop persona weakened for a moment by obvious concern. "I don't know why, but the Santinis are very interested in you. Someone broke into your apartment earlier today. Trashed it. Like they were looking for something." 

Barry's eyes almost popped out of his head, stammering, "O-oh, isn't that... weird." 

"Let me help you," Joe said gently, "Same for you, Mr. Ramon." He glanced at Cisco, his eyes flicking back to Barry. "We can make a deal that will benefit everyone." 

"A deal," Barry repeated quietly. 

"Yes," Joe said earnestly, "Help us, tell me who killed Vincenzo. What are the Santinis looking for. Let's make a deal, Barry." 

Barry took a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest. He lifted his chin defiantly, saying stubbornly, "Already got one of those, thank you." 

Joe looked confused for a moment, saying slowly, "If you don't cooperate, you're not going to leave me any choice. Either of you. I'm trying to give you a chance to do the right thing here." 

"Too bad we can't help you," Cisco said with a small shrug. "We didn't see anything." 

"Nope," Barry agreed, his mind made up. He would not betray Cold, especially not to Joe. "Nothing." 

Joe started to argue again, but there was more excitement outside that drew his attention. The officer who was posted at the door was backing away, obviously terrified and frantic. 

"You... you can't go in there," the officer protested weakly. 

"Then try and stop me," growled a voice of velvet that made Barry shiver down in his bones. 

Boss Cold himself was here, several of the Rogues right behind him. 

Mardon, James, and Axel. 

Cold strolled right by the officer, pushing the door open, eyes wild and teeth bared, searching for Barry. When their eyes met, Barry could feel the electricity crackling in the air like bolts of lightning striking the earth. 

"Len," Barry caught himself whispering, sitting up straighter in bed. There was an honest moment where he didn't think he was ever going to see Cold again, overjoyed that he had been so very wrong. 

"The man himself," Joe sneered with open contempt, "I'm in the middle of taking a statement, you need to leave." 

Cold's face softened for the briefest of moments as he gazed at Barry, relief washing over him and exhaling slowly. His body relaxed, leisurely strolling over to Barry. 

"Hey! Everyone else might be afraid of you, but I'm not," Joe barked, tracking Cold's every movement. 

Cold sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, gloved hands cradling Barry's face. He was completely ignoring the other occupants of the room, Joe in particular, asking quietly, "Are you all right?" 

Barry smiled warmly, his hands coming up to rest over Cold's. "I'm okay," he replied quietly. 

Cold leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Barry's forehead. The storm that was brewing in his eyes was calmer now, a gentle smile playing over his lips. 

Barry wished like hell they were alone. All he could think about was having those wicked lips kissing his own and those gloved hands curling around various parts of his anatomy. Cold had been worried about him, he could tell, and having him being so openly affectionate made his heart ache with want. 

"Very touching and all, but right now you're interfering with an ongoing police investigation," Joe snapped impatiently. 

Whatever warmth had resided in Cold's expression vacated immediately, his eyes narrowing as he turned to finally address Joe. "Detective West," he drawled, "I think it's time for you to leave." 

Joe scoffed in disgust, biting back, "I'm not going anywhere." 

Cold rose up slowly, and Barry could see him visibly shudder with rage despite his cool expression. 

Barry leaned back in the bed, fingers anxiously curling in the sheets. It was like watching two titans circling a gladiatorial arena, waiting to see who would draw first blood. 

"Oh, but you are," Cold assured him icily, stepping smoothly into Joe's space. "Right now." 

"You smug, arrogant son of-" 

"You're leaving or I'm going to call my good friends down at Central City News and tell them all about how you've been harassing two innocent shooting victims," Cold purred, his eyes never leaving Joe's. 

"That's pretty cheap, even for you," Joe spat disgustedly. 

"Mmm, no, cheap would be telling you that I think the apartments over at Baker's Glen are just lovely," Cold drawled, delighted when Joe's eyes widened. 

"Did you... did you just threaten my daughter?" Joe snarled furiously, his hand starting to go to his gun at his hip. 

"Wait. Iris is here?" Barry asked stupidly. Baker's Glen was a local apartment complex in Central City. Cold's vague threat aside, Barry was stunned that his former best friend was back in the city, and he'd had no idea. 

Then again, Barry reasoned sadly , they hadn't spoken in several years. 

"You are a fucking bastard," Joe continued to rage. He hadn't even seemed to have heard Barry, his hand hovering over his weapon as he glared at Cold. "You are going to regret this." 

"All I did was make a comment about a popular apartment community," Cold said with a charming smirk, "You're the one about to draw your gun on an unarmed man with multiple witnesses." 

Joe froze, seeming to remember that the blinds were cracked open and the Rogues were all watching them. 

Axel had his face pressed against the glass, peering in. He grinned and waved when Joe looked his way. Mardon flipped him off. 

Joe dropped his hand to his side, fingers curling into a tight fist. 

"This isn't over," Joe promised. 

"Far from it," Cold agreed with a nasty smirk. 

"I'd be well within my right to hold them both in police custody as witnesses," Joe snapped bitterly. "I could keep them. Indefinitely." 

"Actually," Barry piped up, his eyes narrowing, "If you're referring to the United States Code Title 18, section 3144? The, uh, material witness statute? Sorry. That doesn't apply here, Joe. First of all, since Cisco and I didn't see anything, our testimony hardly makes us material to the case. 

"Secondly? You can only enforce police custody once you've proven that you have reason to believe you can't ensure a witness' presence in court by subpoena. Both Cisco and I live here in the city, we're both gainfully employed, and we've given you no indication that we would flee the city. You'd never get a judge to believe that either of us are a flight risk." 

Joe's jaw dropped. 

Cold had never looked so proud. 

"Trying to hold us would be unconstitutional," Barry went on, holding his head up high, "Something else I'm sure the nice people down at Central City News would love to hear all about." 

"Fuckin' suck it!" Maury cheered. 

Joe clicked his teeth together, glowering as he snapped, "Fine. This is how you wanna be, fine. You've made your bed, now you're gonna have to sleep in it." 

"Oh, trust me," Cold purred maliciously, "He sleeps in my bed just fine." 

Joe's hand twitched as if he was going to reach for his gun again. He turned around, stalking wordlessly towards the door. 

"Have a lovely afternoon, Detective," Cold chuckled, watching Joe storm off. His eyes moved back to Barry, purring, "That... was impressive." 

"Thanks," Barry said shyly, certain that his head was about to pop off from the massive jolt to his ego. 

Cold moved back to the bedside, gently touching Barry's cheek. "You continue to surprise me, Mr. Allen." 

Barry blushed, leaning into Cold's palm. 

"Hey, you," Maurice sniped, "Mister Cold, sir?" 

Cold frowned, turning his head to look over at Maurice. 

"I say 'sir' outta the respect that you're due? But uh, yous and I gotta have a little chat," Maurice said, his bushy brows scrunching up. 

"Do we now?" Cold seemed amused. 

"Yeah, we sure fuckin' do," Maury said, about to open that big mouth of his and certainly get himself into a whole heap of trouble. 

But then there was yet another flurry of activity out in the hall, the Rogues all cheerfully greeting a rushing blur of heels and glitter, a female voice snapping, "Where the fuck is he!" 

Lisa Snart was at the door now, her face red from crying, her hands over her heart as she squealed, "Oh, my God! I was so worried! I heard you had been shot, and, and, my fuckin' God! Look at you, you poor thing!" 

Barry sighed, smiling gently. "I'm okay, really! Just a scratch!" 

Lisa came bounding across the room, sniffling, "I was worried fuckin' sick!" 

"Seriously, I'm fine!" Barry insisted, blinking in surprise as Lisa went right by him and crawled into bed beside Cisco. 

No one looked more stunned than Cisco himself, wrapping his good arm around Lisa's shoulders, soothing, "Hey, come on now. I'm all right." 

"You totally fuckin' saved Barry's life," Lisa cooed, running her long nails through Cisco's hair. "You're a hero, Ciscie." 

"Big damn hero," Cisco agreed, grinning dopily. He looked as if he had died and gone to Heaven, save for knowing Cold was right there glaring at him. 

Cold did not look particularly pleased with his sister fawning all over Cisco, but said nothing to them. He looked back to Barry, asking, "Ready to go home?" 

"Home? You mean your house?" Barry clarified. 

"I mean exactly what I said," Cold said simply, "In light of recent circumstances, your apartment is not safe. For the foreseeable future, you'll be staying with me." He tilted his head curiously. "Unless you have a problem with that?" 

"Uh, no," Barry squeaked, clearing his throat as he said, "No problem at all." 

"Hey, I got a big fuckin' problem," Maurice suddenly interjected. "Barry got fuckin' shot at while you was supposably watchin' out for him, in case you already forgot." 

Cold's pleasant expression faltered, wrinkling his nose slightly at Maury's objection. "Mr. Martine, is it?" he drawled, "I'll let you know when your opinion is needed. In the meantime-" 

"Listen here, big, tall, and ugly," Maurice growled, glaring up at Cold, shaking a thick digit at him, "You might be the giant ol' king shit of Central City, but Barry is like my own fuckin' kid." 

Cold looked over Maurice with equal parts fondness and annoyance, as if he was the beloved family pet that had become incontinent in his advancing years and had just had yet another accident. 

"If anything happens to him, ain't enough Micks or Nimbuses or whoever the fuck else to save you from the likes of me," Maury went on, his stout frame shaking and sweating, "I'll jam my crowbar so far up your ass, you'll be able to open your mouth and pop nails outta walls, you hear me?" 

"While that's a very colorful picture of violence that you're painting, I'm-" 

"I ain't done yet. If your goons do manage to knock me off before I get t'you? I'll haunt your fuckin' ass. Ain't gonna be none of that cute and fuzzy Patrick Swayze singing shit about Henry's wives neither." 

The corner of Cold's mouth twitched, and Barry was honestly afraid for his friend. 

"I will wave my stubby dick in your fuckin' face for the rest of your days until you wanna blow your fuckin' brains out. You open your eyes, all you're gonna see is my fuckin' wedding tackle waggin' at you," Maury promised him, "So, you'd better take care of fuckin' Barry. You better not let him get hurt again, you fuckin' smug prick or else it's gonna be all wrinkly fuckin' scrotes for you forever." He swallowed audibly, adding quietly, "Sir." 

Barry looked nervously over at Cisco and Lisa who both looked as panicked as he did, glancing back quickly to Cold. He couldn't read the gangster's face, unsure of how exactly he was going to react to Maury's outburst. 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Cold purred after a long pause, extending his hand towards him. 

Maury was more than relieved than anyone else, exhaling sharply as he shook Cold's hand. He was instantly blustered by his apparent victory, smacking his lips together and laughing, "Yeah, you just remember. Crowbar. Ass. Wrinkly Balls." 

"Don't think I could forget if I tried," Cold drawled, glancing back towards Barry with a small smirk. "Mr. Allen, you have the most charming friends." 

Barry beamed sweetly, agreeing whole heartedly, "Yeah, I sure do." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooooo, who got their speedster juice back? ME! Enjoy a super quick update everybody! Also, I apologize to any actual lawyers out there who I may have insulted with my feeble legal knowledge. I got my law degree through google. X_x
> 
> Angsty comforty smut comin' up! <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold takes Barry home from the hospital and finally gives him some much needed answers.

Cold was able to persuade Barry's release from the hospital into his care, although he made a point to remove the handcuffs himself instead of letting the policeman unlock them with the key. 

Showing off doubtlessly, but Barry loved it. 

Maury grumbled some more, gave Barry a farewell hug and glared at Cold. He narrowed his eyes defiantly pointing at his crotch and saying, "Remember. Wrinkly balls for fuckin' ever," as his departing words. 

Lisa opted to stay in the hospital with Cisco since he needed a surgical consult for his shoulder, cheerfully bidding adieu to her brother and Barry. 

Cold had one of the Rogues bring him a change of clothes for the ride home, a set of oversized sweats. They warm and clean, and Barry was grateful to get out of the hospital garb. He dozed off in the gangster's lap in the back of the limo en route. He was exhausted from the adventures of the day, happy to be in Cold's embrace. 

He was safe here. 

Cold personally carried Barry upstairs once they arrived back at his estate. Barry held onto Cold's neck, thankful for the new level of closeness he was being allowed, burying his face into his shoulder with a soft sigh. All of his troubles melted away in this man's arms. 

Cold got Barry into bed, checking the bandage with a gentle touch. "Does it hurt?" 

"Burns mostly," Barry answered honestly. "It's okay." 

"I'm proud of you," Cold said with a sincere smile that made Barry's insides turn to jelly. "You held your own with West and watching you put him in his place like that was magnificent." 

"Thank you," Barry said with a bashful smile. 

"You will make a very good lawyer one day," Cold mused. 

"I don't know about that, I'm a terrible liar," Barry chuckled, "It wasn't easy lying to Joe. I told him I didn't see anything, and that was... crap. Almost impossible to get out." 

"Lying to police officers?" Cold looked shocked, teasing, "Why, Mr. Allen, picking up all of these criminal habits." 

"Just so you know in the future? I will only be taking on innocent clientele to avoid the whole lying to police stuff." 

"Mmm, won't have much business then I'm afraid," Cold said with an affectionate smirk. "I don't know many innocent men." 

"Yeah... I guess not," Barry said quietly, trying to ignore the memories of Mick standing over him with a gun. The blood, there was so much blood, Vincenzo's dead eyes staring at him but not seeing. Not seeing anything ever again. 

"What's wrong?" Cold's demeanor was shifting to one of concern, frowning. 

"I just... I was thinking," Barry stammered, his breathing starting to quicken, "That's the second time I've seen... someone killed. I'm..." 

The room was starting to spin, his vision was getting dark. He tried to tell himself that there was no blood here, there was no knife, no gun. He was panting, his fingers clenching and unclenching against the sheets. He couldn't keep the panic from rising up and flooding his lungs, squeezing his chest until he couldn't breathe. 

"Take a breath. Tell me what you need," Cold ordered, laying down beside Barry and pulling him into his arms. 

"Just you," Barry replied, trying to shake off the darkness and melting against Cold like a bowl of ice cream on a hot summer day. He pressed as close as he could, invading every inch of space between them until he was practically glued to him. "I just... need you." 

"Keep breathing," Cold ordered and continued to hold Barry tight, rubbing his back and his shoulders, not letting up for a moment. 

Barry concentrated on that perfectly smooth voice, his pulse beginning to climb down out of heart attack territory. It was amazing how quickly Cold could pull him out of the darkness, sighing contently at the tender affections. 

"Better?" Cold soothed gently after a few long beats of silence, resting his cheek against Barry's hair. 

"Yes," Barry sighed, blinking slowly as the anxiety finally receded. 

"Mick said he told you and Cisco to stay back," Cold said quietly, his tone carrying a hint of reprimand. 

"He did," Barry said, "But then we heard the shots, I guess... we just got scared. Cisco thought we could get to his car." 

Cold's hand pressed tightly at the small of Barry's back, chastising, "Foolish." 

"I know," Barry confessed, "I wasn't thinking." 

"Obviously," Cold drawled, a small smirk curling his mouth. 

"Where's Mick now?" Barry asked quietly. "He... he saved me, too. Is he okay?" 

"He's fine. Keeping a low profile," Cold replied, his fingers gently sliding along Barry's spine. "At least until the heat dies down." 

"Did they... did they really trash my place?" 

"The Santinis?" Cold nodded. "Yes. Probably won't be able to tell much difference, all things considered." 

"Why, because my apartment is already so shitty?" Barry snorted, grateful for the splash of levity. "Very funny." 

Cold smirked, pleased with himself at his little joke. 

"So. I'm really going to be staying here. With you?" Barry peered curiously at Cold, hoping he didn't sound as excited as he felt. "For how long?" 

"Until it's safe," Cold said, his eyes lingering on Barry's lips. 

"Worried about me?" Barry asked with a warm smile. 

"You still have quite a debt to work off," Cold deflected smoothly. 

"Mmmm, I really do," Barry said dryly. He knew Cold was being facetious, but it would be so nice to actually hear one genuine statement of endearment. 

"I'll have your things brought over," Cold said, "Anything in particular you need?" 

"My mom's jewelry," Barry replied immediately. Cold quirked a brow at that so he clarified, "Maybe I don't need it exactly, but... I want it here. And there's a shoebox under my bed? Full of pictures. That, too. Please." 

"Done." 

"It's that ring, isn't it," Barry said carefully, "They were looking for the ring. Vincenzo saw me wearing it at the club. He asked me about it... before, you know, before he tried to shoot me." 

Cold's face hardened, looking away from Barry. "What of it?" 

"You said you'd tell me," Barry reminded him, pouting. He trusted Cold, he did, but he had to know what was going on. 

Cold said nothing. 

Barry reached up, resting his hand on Cold's cheek, trying to make him look back at him. "Len?" 

Cold's eyes flickered back when Barry said his name, grabbing his wrist and deftly pinning it above his head. 

Barry gasped, surprised by the spike of lust that rushed through him. He bit his lip, gazing hungrily up at Cold. 

Cold slowly shifted his body on top of Barry's, being mindful of his injured arm but holding him firmly down. "I seem to recall telling you that I would explain everything when it was the right time," he drawled. "That time is not now." 

Barry wiggled beneath him, scrunching up his nose as he protested, "I deserve to know. If this really has something to do with my mother, please. Tell me." 

Cold pursed his lips in that gorgeously sexy pout he wore so well, thoughtful and calculating, scanning over Barry's lean body. The borrowed clothing was too big, shapeless, but Cold didn't seem to mind. 

He gazed over Barry ravenously as if he were wearing soft silks and exotic leathers instead of baggy sweats. 

Cold shifted down onto his elbows, keeping Barry pinned while pushing the loose fabric up his stomach. His long fingers carefully traced the lines of his lean hips, moving up to feather along his navel. 

Barry sucked in a sharp breath, amazed at how so few touches could leave him absolutely starving for more. He wanted to touch, too, but he knew better than to try. He was patient, keeping his hands firmly against the mattress where Cold wanted them. 

He let Cold continue to pet and tease him, praying silently he would give him an answer. Something. Anything. 

"That ring belonged to Don Santini," Cold replied at long last, his tongue running slowly over his top teeth. "Louis Santini." 

LS. Louis Santini. Holy crap baskets. 

"The don who was murdered?" Barry exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you sure? I mean... how, how did it end up in my mom's jewelry box?" 

"I am positive," Cold replied, "I spent years kissing that ring. I am quite familiar with it. As to how your mother came into possession of it... that I cannot say." 

"Can't because you don't know, or can't because you're not telling me?" 

"Both," Cold answered smugly, his nimble fingers lightly pinching Barry's nipple. 

Barry whined softly, his body focusing its circulatory attention down between his legs. He tried to stay on track, demanding, "Why would the Santinis be willing to kill me over a stupid ring?" 

"The don had always planned to pass that ring on to his heir," Cold explained, moving his fingers to Barry's other nipple, "When he was murdered, it was stolen; probably by whoever killed him. They searched for it for years, never found it." 

"That's why they're trying to start a war?" Barry groaned. "Over a ring?" 

"Don't worry about that," Cold purred, shaking his head sternly. "The war was already brewing long before the Santinis knew about the ring. I am keeping it safe, and I will do everything I can to prevent bloodshed, I promise you. It's bad for business, after all." 

"So, who really killed the don?" Barry gasped, Cold's fingers twisting until it made him squeal. 

"Mmmm, most people seem to think it was me," Cold teased with a wicked smile. 

"But then wouldn't you have had the ring already?" Barry argued, yelping at another hard pull. 

"Trust that I am looking into it," Cold soothed, his fingers resuming their delicate torture of Barry's nipples. "I believe your mother's murder and the don's may be connected." 

"Really?" Barry whined, groaning as Cold pinched him harder. 

"Yes, I've contacted a very reliable source to look into the case." 

"You mean Geemaw?" 

Cold snorted in surprise, replying, "Yes. She's also the one who's going to help me free your father." 

"Wait," Barry protested, groaning at another cruel twist, "I heard you and Mick talking about Geemaw before we made the deal for the ring." 

"And?" 

Barry glared accusingly at Cold, snapping, "You only offered to help my Dad to get the stupid ring from me." 

"Because there was nothing else you'd be willing to trade it for," Cold explained smoothly. 

"But you had me trade for something you were already doing?" 

"Mmmhmm," Cold purred, offering Barry mercy and moving his hand down over his side. He nuzzled against Barry's neck, his lips allowing a small and chaste kiss next to his ear. 

"That is so freakin' sneaky!" Barry complained. "You said you wouldn't lie to me again-" 

"I didn't lie," Cold smoothly interjected. "I manipulated the situation to our mutual advantage. I get the ring, your father will be freed. I am going to make sure of it." 

"That's, that's still so screwed up," Barry groaned as Cold's hand moved down the front of his pants, grunting appreciatively when he found him hard and leaking. He kept his hips firmly planted against the sheets, trying to resist the urge to thrust up into Cold's palm. 

"Any other burning questions?" Cold asked far too calmly for someone that had their hand wrapped around a dick. 

"Yes," Barry continued to protest, gritting his teeth. "Why were you already looking into the case, why..." His eyes widened as a few of the pieces fell into place. "Joe. You said Joe lied about something. That's how you were going to get him. It was my mother's case? You found something?" 

"Gold star for you, Mr. Allen," Cold purred, squeezing Barry's cock teasingly. "I admire that lovely brain of yours, I do, but right now I'm interested in a very different part of your anatomy... I'm not going to answer any more questions, so I hope you're satisfied?" 

"Yes, sir," Barry gasped, his eyes fluttering closed. "At least, with, uhm, asking questions... definitely maybe could think of some other... satisfying things to do." 

"Mmmm. It's not nine o'clock yet," Cold mused, suddenly releasing his hold and fixing Barry with a sly smile. 

"Are you really paying that much attention to the time now? Like right now?" Barry all but growled, panting haggardly. "Are you serious?" 

"Mmm, we should wait until you're actually on the clock," Cold taunted. 

"Do you want me to beg? Is that what this is?" Barry whined, falling boneless against the bed despite a strong urge to kick his feet like a enraged toddler. 

"I want to make sure you're actually up for this," Cold corrected, his fingers lightly resting on Barry's cheek. "My intention is not to be cruel." 

"Len," Barry said earnestly, invoking his name to help convey how serious he was, "I could have died today. And when I was down there on the floor, I didn't have any of that whole life flashing before my eyes or anything. All I thought about was you." 

Cold's snark was wiped away, replaced with a curiously blank expression. He appeared to be lost, gazing over Barry's face in desperate search of something. He stroked his thumb across Barry's cheek, lightly tracing his brow, commanding quietly, "Then strip, Mr. Allen." 

"Yes, sir," Barry said, nodding slowly, that dominant tone seeping right into his soul. He pushed the baggy shirt up over his head and wiggled his pants off in a blink. He watched as Cold moved onto his back, sitting up against the headboard. 

Cold beckoned him over, patting his thigh invitingly. 

Barry obediently slinked into Cold's lap, surprised when he guided his hands up on his shoulders. He was thrilled with being given permission to touch, feeling that soft fabric of Cold's jacket eagerly. 

Cold gently ran his fingers down Barry's arms, pausing over the bullet wound. He traced around the bandage, his brow furrowing with obvious concern. His touch was tender, gentle, saying softly, "I wish that bastard was still alive so I could kill him myself." 

"I'm okay," Barry said quietly, bravely moving his hands to rest on Cold's chest. "I'm here, I'm safe... I'm yours." 

Cold's eyes narrowed, gripping Barry's hips possessively. He rolled his body up against Barry's, making him gasp when he felt how hard he was already. "Mine." 

"Yours," Barry agreed, breathless as he watched Cold grab lube from the bedside table and slick up his fingers. He arched his back, eagerly trying to press into Cold's hand. 

"Patience," Cold chastised lightly, spreading Barry's cheeks and rubbing one finger over his hole. He didn't penetrate, not yet, getting the entire line of his ass crack good and wet. 

Barry sighed longingly, his head falling back. "God... _Len_." 

Hearing his name broke something inside of Cold. He suddenly lunged forward, his fingers finally pressing in, holding Barry close as his mouth passionately latched onto his throat. 

"What happened to patience?" Barry gasped, fingers clawing at the collar of Cold's jacket. 

Cold growled, his hand reeling back and popping Barry's ass. 

Barry jerked from the slap, moaning as Cold bit down hard on his clavicle. There would certainly be bruises tomorrow, and Barry looked forward to every single one. 

He was so lost in Cold's mouth and fingers that he didn't realize that the gangster had reached back into the bedside for something. He pouted when Cold's hand retreated and jerked as he felt something cool and rubbery pressing at his ass instead. 

"Mmmph?" 

"A plug," Cold explained, pressing the slick silicone into place with a smug smirk. "Keep you nice and open for me until I decide I'm ready to fuck you." 

Barry found he could clench his ass around the plug, whispering softly at the unrelenting pressure. He rocked his hips down experimentally, inhaling sharply because oh, when he moved just right it felt exquisite. 

"Good?" Cold asked, twirling his fingers around the base. 

"Good," Barry sighed. 

Cold palmed Barry's ass, squeezing hard as he murmured, "Think today might be the day I finally tie you up, Mr. Allen..." 

Barry shivered with anticipation, wishing his mouth would work, that his tongue could make words. All he could do was nod, whining with need. 

Cold smiled, dark and wicked, his arms circling Barry's waist and gently flipping their positions. He stretched Barry out on his back, admiring the long and lean lines of his body with a soft growl. "Gorgeous." 

Barry preened at the compliment, blushing all the way down his chest and his cock proudly bobbing against his stomach. He couldn't wait for Cold to take total control of him, desperate for him to take charge. 

Cold seemed to sense how badly Barry wanted it, so naturally he took his time. Silken cords were slowly being wound around Barry's wrists, stretching his arms above his head and securing them to the rungs of the headboard. 

Cold was moving at a leisurely pace, making sure each knot was perfect, sliding a finger between the bindings to check their fit wasn't too snug. He stood up from the bed when he was done to take off his jacket and vest, neatly folding them as always, admiring his handiwork. "Don't you look just delicious," he purred, glancing at the ties, "Not too tight?" 

"No, sir," Barry replied immediately. He had never felt so vulnerable, knowing he couldn't possibly escape from the knots Cold had tied. He was completely at the gangster's mercy, but he didn't feel afraid. He was elated. He knew Cold wouldn't hurt him, he would take care of him. 

He always did. 

Barry wished Cold would have taken off more clothing before returning to bed, but he had at least untucked his shirt and Barry saw a quick glimpse of his bare hip. 

Cold was crawling back on top of him, long fingers teasing around his balls and shaft until Barry whined, taunting, "I thought about fucking your face, but... I could simply keep you on edge for hours instead, torture you, tease you. Wonder how long it would take for you to start begging to come. Mmm, probably not long, knowing you." 

"I've missed my mouth on you," Barry murmured, a tremor of lust rocking his body at thought of tasting Cold, "My lip is all healed... please." 

Cold thought this over, running his thumb over Barry's lower lip and inspecting it for any remaining damage. "Very well, Mr. Allen," he purred in approval, "Open wide." 

Barry beamed, opening his mouth obediently and nearly drooling in anticipation. 

Cold opened up his pants and released his thick cock, straddling Barry's chest and slowly scooting into position. He was holding himself against the headboard to support himself and keep some of his weight off Barry, smirking down at him. 

Barry's tongue frantically licked out as Cold's cock approached his hungry lips, all but pouncing to take him into his mouth. 

Cold didn't reprimand him for being so eager, letting Barry take all he wanted, running a hand approvingly through his hair. "Good boy," he murmured, "Such a good boy for me." 

Barry started to close his eyes, tugging at the ropes as he struggled to find a comfortable position. He had to keep his head lifted up from the pillows to get the angle right, sucking hard. He almost gagged when Cold tugged his hair and thrusted his cock deep inside, that velvet voice commanding, "Keep your eyes open. Look at me." 

Barry's eyes fluttered open, finding Cold's intense gaze burning into his as he started rocking his hips forward. 

God, yes, that's what Barry wanted. He wanted Cold to use him, to fuck his throat, to make him his. He moaned appreciatively, trying not to choke, relaxing his throat and opening his mouth wide to take all that he could. His eyes were watering, coughing softly when he choked again. 

Cold pulled back, one hand still holding the headboard and the other grabbing hold of his cock. He rubbed the head all around Barry's lips, musing, "I have missed your mouth, Mr. Allen... so very much." 

Barry stuck out his tongue, licking eagerly at the tip of Cold's cock, trying to crane his head forward to pull him back into his mouth. 

Cold wouldn't let him, keeping himself just out of reach for a few teasing moments. He finally relented, rocking himself back down Barry's hot throat until he had managed to get him choked up again. 

Cold wiped the tears from Barry's eyes, rubbing his dick against his cheek, musing, "Were I a little younger, I'd come all over your face and still fuck you after." 

Barry tried to turn his head and chase after Cold's cock, but he pulled his hair and forced him back the other way. "Please..." 

"Come now, Mr. Allen," Cold chastised, "I'm not going to waste the efforts of that lovely little plug inside of you." He gracefully lifted himself off of Barry's chest, settling between his thighs and spreading his legs. 

Barry gasped when Cold pressed against the plug, and he outright moaned when he pulled it out. He hated the empty feeling it left behind, but he didn't have to wait long. Cold already had a condom on, freshly lubed and pushing forward so fast Barry had to shout and struggle against the bindings. 

Cold slammed into him, surprising Barry with a low groan of his own, fucking him hard and fast. He pulled Barry's long legs over his shoulders and pressed forward until his knees were in his chest. 

"Oh, fuck, fuuu-uck!" Barry cried out, throwing his head back. Cold was thrusting so deeply, filling him up perfectly every time, his body clenching tightly down as he took every inch. His hands clawed openly at nothing, wishing he could feel, wishing he could touch. 

Cold's hips pounded him into the mattress like a machine, relentless and powerful, his teeth bared as he growled. He completely owned every inch of Barry's body, fucking him savagely, the smack of their colliding bodies obscenely loud. 

Barry was screaming with pleasure, his mouth hanging open and smiling in bliss, letting Cold take everything he wanted from him. 

Barry moaned desperately for more, confusion settling in when Cold began to suddenly slow down. He stared up at him, chest heaving, startled when he realized Cold was loosening the bindings. 

He let one of Barry's hands go. 

Cold was difficult to read, Barry trying to make sense of the hazy lust clouding his vision at that moment. He reached up hesitantly, palming the side of Cold's face, realizing that this was a gift. 

An invitation. 

He slid his hand down Cold's neck, squeezing over his broad shoulder, slowly, carefully. Cold began to move once more, deep, passionate, pressing his face down into the crook of Barry's neck. 

Barry gasped because this was a hundred times more intense than the senseless pounding from before. Cold was pouring himself into every thrust, rocking their bodies together to push deeper and deeper. 

Barry's hand was scrambling to touch, to feel, to hold onto whatever he could. 

Cold's back was strong, firm, and even through the thin fabric of the shirt Barry could feel ripples of scarred tissue. He ached to realize the extent of the scars was much worse than he had previously thought, unable to even imagine what had been done to him to cause such marks. He tried not to linger on them for long. 

His fingers felt lower still, groaning at a particularly delightful slam when he touched Cold's hip. 

Barry knew from Cold's heated breath that he was getting close. He couldn't resist taking full advantage of the gift he had been given while he still could, and there was one thing he had been absolutely dying to do. 

Barry slid his hand down over the full curve of Cold's ass and squeezed. 

Cold grunted, an actual chuckle rumbling deep in his throat. He gave Barry a hard thrust in response, and God, that was all the encouragement Barry needed. 

He pushed Cold's pants down, fingers sliding under the waistband of his boxer briefs and getting a firm handful of his bare ass. God, it was full and warm and Barry shamelessly squeezed, moaning as Cold started fucking him hard again, desperately chasing down his climax. 

Barry dragged his nails across his butt, positively gleeful that he finally had a taste of bare flesh. God, Cold really had the most perfect and full ass. Barry held on tight, moaning happily as Cold's hips stuttered, giving him a few more rough slams as he finished. 

Cold groaned contently, pulling out rather unceremoniously and shifting onto his side. He reached for Barry's cock, curling around him tight and giving him a few swift strokes to bring him over the edge. 

Barry gasped and keened, fuck, it didn't take much to get him there. He still had a free hand and while he couldn't keep a hold of Cold's scrumptious backside, he could reach his shoulder. He let his fingers dig in, shuddering as he came, groaning, "Len..." 

Cold smirked, looking quite pleased with himself to hear his name on Barry's lips. He pressed close, not seeming to mind the mess between them. He released Barry's other hand, not even flinching when he hugged him. 

Barry nuzzled against Cold's chest, sighing, "Thank you." 

Cold kissed Barry's forehead tenderly, running his fingers through his hair. "Mmm, don't thank me yet." 

"Why?" 

"You realize that this isn't going to count towards your outstanding balance?" 

"Seriously?" Barry laughed, grinning up at the gangster and shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess... I guess I'm not that worried about it." 

Cold smiled softly, glancing at his watch, suggesting casually, "Mmmm, if you think you'd be interested in going again, say in about three hours and forty two minutes, that activity could certainly be applied to your debt." 

"Hmm, that's very generous of you to offer," Barry hummed, glancing down at the stickiness still left between them, "Shower first?" 

"Definitely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! The smut fairy visited! <3
> 
> Big congrats to everyone who had already figured out who that ring belonged to! Bwuhahaha! One mystery solved... but huh. How did Nora get it?! XD 
> 
> More smut comin' up before we return to the plots!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry pushes Cold too far, and Lisa needs relationship advice.

Once nine o'clock rolled around, Cold gave Barry ample opportunity to work off some of his debt. Cold tied him up again, keeping him stretched out across the bed and teasing him for hours before finally giving in and finding their sweet end together. After an honest evening of hard work, Barry had passed out with a happy smile on his face. 

Too bad he didn't wake up that way. 

Barry jerked up from the sheets suddenly, his heart racing, sweating all over. A nightmare, he told himself, it was only a nightmare. 

A terrible, terrible nightmare. 

There had been so much blood that it had been pouring down the walls, and his mother had been screaming in his ears. The rain had been pouring down outside, thunder crashing and lightning crackling all around the house. The Man in Yellow had been right there, leering over him, laughing and laughing, but he still had no face. 

He didn't have a face, only a black hole that threatened to swallow Barry completely. He had been sucked right into it, falling and falling, waking when his stomach dropped and everything went dark. 

Barry panted, trying to shake off the remaining panic from the bad dream. It wasn't real. None of it was real. He sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. 

He was in bed alone, fumbling for his phone to see that it was a little after five in the morning. He could hear the shower running, but didn't dare go disturb Cold. The bathroom door would be locked anyway. 

Barry reached down around the foot of the bed, feeling for something to wear. The first thing he grabbed was Cold's dress shirt from last night. He smiled, pulling it on over his head and breathing in the warm and familiar scent of his lover. 

He was far too awake to even attempt going back to sleep, slowly padding out of the bedroom and into the den. He had been dying to get a peek at Cold's vinyl collection, and it was the perfect distraction to settle his restless mind. He turned on a small lamp, looking around excitedly. 

He could still hear the shower going. He had time to browse for a few moments. 

Barry carefully thumbed through the records, delighted by the names he found. Sam Cooke, the Pixies, Wild Cherry, the Coasters, Queen, Cheap Trick, the Temptations. He kept going, pausing as he found one album all the way in the back that didn't have any cover art. He picked it up curiously, reading a small label. 

Suzanne. 

Cold's mother. 

Barry couldn't resist, reverently taking the record out of the sleeve and setting it on the player. He bit his lip, anxiously getting the needle into place, eager to hear. 

It was jazz, warm and slow, Suzanne's voice rising up over the music with a strength and beauty that made Barry's skin prickle with goosebumps. He tried to think of a singer to compare her to; maybe Ella Fitzgerald? Billie Holiday? But no, neither had that faint rough edge that Suzanne did. 

Neither sang of love with such an intensity that it made Barry's heart ache, her voice carrying higher and higher and seeping right into his soul. 

Barry stood there mesmerized, surprised when the second song began to play and he actually recognized it. It was a jazzy cover of a Patsy Cline song, and it made Barry's soul ache. 

_Crazy, I'm crazy for feeling so lonely._

_I'm crazy, crazy for feeling so blue._

_I knew you'd love me as long as you wanted to._

_And then someday you'd leave me for somebody new._

Barry began to sing along, softly at first, but stronger as the melody took over. Suzanne's voice was achingly beautiful, slowly swaying his hips as he sang with her, feeling tears in his eyes as the music moved him. 

So caught up in the music, he didn't even realize someone had turned off the lamp. Strong hands gently rested on hips, and Barry jumped, yelping in terror. He tried to whirl around to see who had grabbed him, but Cold's velvety voice was urging, "Don't turn around." 

Barry froze, the words of the song suddenly lost to him, panting softly. 

"Please..." Cold urged quietly. "Keep singing." 

Barry pressed as close as he could, reaching back to hold Cold's waist and gasping as he felt bare flesh under his hands. Cold wasn't wearing a shirt. Wait, it didn't feel like Cold was wearing much of anything. 

Cold smelled fresh and clean from his shower, and fuck, Barry's chest was tumbling with the thrill of knowing his lover was naked right behind him. 

He closed his eyes, his voice picking up the next chorus, leaning into Cold's warm body. 

_I'm crazy for trying._

_And crazy for crying._

_And I'm crazy for loving you._

Cold's hands were moving all over him, fingers lightly dancing over the curve of Barry's hip bone, reaching up his shirt and tracing along his sides and his stomach, gently rocking him in time to his mother's voice. Barry was melting everywhere Cold touched, his voice stuttering sporadically as he tried not to moan. 

Cold had never allowed him to be this close, his chin leaning against Barry's shoulder. His arms felt strong, comforting, sliding easily around Barry's waist with a familiarity that made his stomach flutter. Barry's hands naturally fell to rest on his forearms, still singing lightly, but trying to take in every detail of the exposed flesh that he could. 

In the dim glow of the light from the record player's display, he could see a wicked tangle of scars. Some of them wrapped around Cold's arms like snakes, the other were blunt lakes of keloided tissue, and others were thin cuts like a spiderweb etched across his flesh. 

Barry dared to touch and trace every one that he could see. There was tension in Cold's arms at first, but it began to ease away as the music played on. He let Barry explore all he wanted, his breathing soft and gentle at his ear. 

_Crazy, for thinking that my love could hold you._

_I'm crazy for trying, crazy for crying, and I'm crazy for loving you._

Barry turned towards the sensation of warm breath, the last words of the song on his lips. He could feel Cold's mouth ghosting over his skin, every muscle in his body winding tight in anticipation. He wanted to kiss Cold so terribly, reaching up to desperately rake his fingers through his short hair to finally seize his lips. 

Cold flinched away and easily caught his wrist, tangling their fingers together for a moment as he groaned softly. Barry could sense his indecision, trying to press closer and tip the scales in his favor. He wanted to kiss him so very badly. 

Cold ducked his head away from Barry's kiss, but left his hand where it was. Barry hated the rejection, but took full advantage of the new allowance he'd been given. He eagerly stroked his fingers over Cold's head, dragging through his closely shorn hair, teasing over the edge of his ear. 

The next song began, one that Barry didn't know, but he picked up the melody quickly. He began to hum along, panting softly as Cold pushed him up against the record player. 

Cold's hand traveled south quickly, reaching between their grinding bodies in between Barry's cheeks, fingers pushing slowly into his hole. 

Barry's voice stuttered, breaking off into a symphony of escalating gasps. He rolled his hips against Cold's hand, keeping rhythm with the music, his nails digging down into his scalp. He was still open and wet from earlier, but didn't dare complain, his singing lost to whimpering moans as Cold pressed deeper inside of him. 

The song rolled onto the next and for a few seconds there was no sound but Barry's cries, the wet thrust of Cold's fingers, and the dull scratch of the record. Barry was on the tipping point of madness, smothering kisses against Cold's ear and neck, breathing, "God... please... don't stop, don't stop." 

Cold grunted, his fingers turning and spreading Barry's hole until he cried out, lightly grinding against him in time with the tantalizing bass. 

"Barry," Cold murmured low, now rubbing the head of his bare cock against Barry's hole, "I want to come in you..." 

Barry gurgled dumbly, surprised and instantly sobbing just from the thought. He had never let anyone do that, but Cold... God, yes. He wanted Cold to make him his. 

But... 

"Only if you're mine," Barry said. 

"What?" Cold seemed startled by the statement. 

"Only if you're mine," Barry stubbornly repeated. "Only if... I'm the only one." 

"Barry," Cold sighed, his tone aching with emotion. He knew exactly what Barry was asking for. 

"I'm already yours," Barry pleaded, grinding his hips back, "Please. Be mine?" 

"Only you," Cold replied, nuzzling against Barry's shoulder and his lips pressing a soft kiss against his skin. "I can't be yours, but you'll be the only one." 

Barry shuddered at the sweet kiss, nodding, panting, "Okay." 

A small groan rumbled in Cold's throat, starting to press his thick cock inside Barry. He was slow, each thrust moving with the music as he worked himself in. Once he was fully sheathed, he draped himself over Barry's body, kissing his shoulder again. 

Barry was a mess of sensation, whining as Cold's cock filled him up so perfectly. It felt so much better without the condom, slick and hot, his mind already running away like mad that he had agreed to let Cold do this. 

He wanted it so fucking much, his thoughts consumed with Cold coming inside him now. The warmth of his naked body against Barry's back was incredible, and that feeling alone was enough to leave him wrecked. Even though he couldn't see him, he could feel a strong chest, firm stomach. He ached to touch, but kept his hands firmly planted on the record player. 

Barry didn't want to do anything to ruin this. 

The music was playing on and on, their bodies swaying together as if they were still dancing. Cold would thrust deep, as deep as he could until Barry moaned and gasped, retreating until he almost slipped out before pushing back inside him again. Barry was absolutely lost to it, the passion intensifying as Cold kissed his neck, lightly sucking at his skin. 

Barry's head tipped back against Cold's shoulder, letting him have free reign of his throat. Cold growled at the invitation, but never bit, never gnashed his teeth. He kept kissing and panting, prompting Barry to whisper desperately, "Please, God, I want to kiss you." 

Cold hesitated, his hips starting to slam forward a little harder as if to work off his obvious frustration. His hands pushed Barry's shirt up, fingers clinging to his sides before wrapping tight around him. He didn't know what Cold was trying to convey, but it felt desperate, broken. 

Barry could feel Cold's bare skin against his own, hot and damp with sweat, but no kiss ever came. He moaned, mourning the rejection but loving how Cold was fucking him. 

No, this wasn't fucking. They'd never had sex like this. This was something beautiful, something Barry had never felt before, an experience he didn't dare put words to yet. 

Barry gasped when Cold shifted their bodies, his cock starting to zero in on his prostate. It was intense, enough to make his toes curl into the rug. He focused on the feeling, his hands still clenching onto the edge of the record player. 

His moans started to stutter, his whole body tensing up. The pressure inside him was seconds away from exploding, and he realized with a groan that he going to come completely untouched. He had certainly heard about it, read dirty message boards where people had shared their experiences, but he had never had it happen. 

Until now. 

"Len, I'm, I'm gonna come," Barry whimpered, his fingers digging into the edge of the player so hard his knuckles were turning white, "Please, please let me come." 

Cold made a wonderful sound at that, somewhere between a purr and a low growl, demanding, "Come for me, Barry." 

Barry went blissfully off the edge and straight into oblivion, shaking from head to toe as he came. Cold's cock pounded him through it, weeping as each slam completely ruined him. The feeling was almost overwhelming, making his eyes water and leaving him gasping for breath. He cried out as Cold's hips became erratic, moaning quietly as he felt a flash of heat deep within as Cold unloaded inside him. 

"Oh... my God," Barry wept, whimpering as Cold's thrusts slowed to a crawl. When he pulled out, he could feel Cold's come starting to dribble out and his face flushed with more heat, loving the new feeling so much. 

"Oh, Barry," Cold sighed, rubbing the head of his cock against his slick hole. "You are... perfect." 

Barry bowed his head against the record player, sighing softly at the compliment. Cold had used his name several times this evening, and it sounded so dirty and wonderful in that velvety drawl. 

The record had been over for some time, the only sound now was the duet of their panting breaths. Barry moaned appreciatively, arching his hips as he stretched his back. He was warm and fuzzy all over, murmuring contently as Cold kissed his shoulder. 

Barry touched his cock, amazed that he was still hard after coming like that. It didn't even seem like much had come out. He slipped one of his hands down to touch his hole, amazed how open and wet he was, twirling around in the moisture still dripping out of him. 

Cold dropped to his knees suddenly, spreading Barry's cheeks and greedily swiping his tongue over his hole. Barry's face was blushing so hard it burned, realizing with a crazy smile what Cold was doing. 

Cold was slurping out every drop of his own come that he could reach, his tongue dipping in and out of Barry's gaping hole. It was so dirty and fucking hot, groaning loudly. 

Barry keened and whined as Cold kept on going, his cock still bobbing hard between his legs. There was still so much pressure, scared that his knees were going to buckle soon. "Please... fuck." 

"What do you need, Barry," Cold rasped, sucking hungrily. 

"I don't know," Barry panted, snapping his teeth together, "It's... it feels so tight, it... it fucking aches." 

"I'll take care of you," Cold promised him, his fingers pressing back inside and curling perfectly to massage his prostate. He reached his other hand to grab his aching cock, stroking him lovingly. 

"Too much," Barry sobbed, torn between thrusting back on Cold's fingers inside of him and the ones stroking him into sheer oblivion. "Fuck, please... God!" 

Barry screamed, Cold's quick fingers coaxing him through the intense most orgasm he'd ever felt. It never seemed to end, his cock pulsing and pulsing long streams of thick come as Cold assaulted his prostate without reprieve until his body quaked. 

Cold finally released him, giving his hole one last lick, grunting approvingly. 

Barry didn't think he could keep standing much longer, thankful when he felt Cold's strong arms wrapping around him. He turned around, his head dropping against Cold's bare chest. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, focusing on the nest of scars right in front of him. 

Twisted, blotchy, countless. 

Fingers trembling, he lightly traced over what may have been a stab wound just above Cold's right nipple. Wait, except there wasn't a nipple, not exactly. It was another patch of scar tissue, a thick and dark tear that rippled across his breast. 

Cold had stiffened up like a statue, but had yet to move Barry away. His voice was strained when he spoke, saying, "I need to get dressed." 

Barry frowned softly, peering up at Cold's handsome face. "You know I don't care about these." 

Barry didn't need to specify what he was referring to. 

Cold's brow furrowed, his face struggling to maintain a calm expression. "Huh." 

"Yes," Barry said stubbornly. "I've told you that I think you're beautiful." 

Oh, that word made Cold tremble. Gently, he began to pull away from Barry, saying quietly, "That's a matter of perspective." 

"Does that have anything to do with why you won't kiss me?" Barry asked with a small huff. 

Cold's eyes narrowed, his voice a bitter hiss as he snapped back, "What I choose to do or not do with my body is no fucking business of yours, Mr. Allen." 

Barry cringed, quickly trying to repair the obvious damage he had inflicted, exclaiming, "Wait! I'm sorry! I just meant-" 

"You have work today," Cold said shortly, "The police finished their investigation, and the club will reopen tonight. While I don't expect Cisco to be there, you still have rehearsal. I'll make sure there's a suitable replacement in the meantime." 

"Please," Barry cried, reaching for Cold's arm. "I didn't mean-" 

Cold jerked away from him, his hand snatching Barry around his neck. "Don't," he warned, his eyes glittering with anger. 

Barry's heart sank, swallowing thickly. They had come so far, and now he felt like he had ruined everything. He gently curled trembling fingers around Cold's wrist, saying sincerely, "I'm sorry, Len." 

Cold's face softened for a brief moment, as if that last apology was actually heard and meant something to him, saying quietly, "Don't be late." 

Barry didn't try to hold on when Cold pulled away, getting a departing glimpse of his body as he moved back to the bedroom. He heard the bathroom door slam shut, sighing defeatedly. 

Well, fuck. 

That had ended spectacularly well. 

Barry crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up over his head. He didn't think sleep would come, but he tossed and turned anyway in search of it. He must have managed to doze off at some point because he didn't hear Cold leave. 

He opened his eyes when he heard polite knocking at the door. He grumbled, rolling back over and sticking his head under the pillows. He felt terrible for upsetting Cold, and he wasn't much in the mood for company. 

The door opened despite his refusal to answer it, a familiar voice calling out, "Monsieur? 'Allo?" 

"Jerry?" Barry poked his head up, sighing miserably. He glanced at his phone, noticing that it was a few minutes after ten in the morning. 

He also saw that Cold had again not left him a card. He didn't have a text from him either. Great. 

"I am very sorry to bother you," Jerry quickly apologized as he stepped up to the doorway of the bedroom. He would not cross the threshold, continuing hastily, "There's a bit of a situation down at the La Belle, and your presence is needed immediately." 

"Me?" 

"Oui," Jerry confirmed, "It's Mademoiselle Snart." He gestured to the room behind him, saying, "I've already brought you some of your clothing from your, eh, your residence? The rest later, yes, but we need to go." 

Barry sat up quickly, but didn't make it very far since he wasn't wearing any pants. "Is Lisa okay?" 

"She's asking for you," Jerry said with a sad smile, starting to retreat, "Please hurry, and we shall go." 

"Right," Barry agreed, a new streak of worry wrinkling up his gut. Once Jerry had left him, he got up to find clean clothes. Jerry had only brought him suits to wear, choosing a dark gray pinstripe to put on with his black Chucks. He hurried to the bathroom to fix himself up and change his bandage, smirking wryly at his reflection when he was ready. 

He looked like a little kid playing gangster dress up. 

He paused to take a quick selfie, texting it to Len with a short message: 

_See you tonight?_

God, Barry hoped so. 

He rushed downstairs to meet Jerry, the chauffeur and chef adding race car driver to his list of professions as he hauled ass down to La Belle at neck breaking speeds. Barry was a little nauseous as Jerry herded him inside. 

Barry heard a crash from the upstairs office, grimacing as he jogged up the steps to investigate. He could hear sobbing and something shattering, carefully opening the door and calling out, "Uh, Lisa? It's Barry. Please don't throw anything." 

The office was plush, decorated in the same theme as the rest of the bar with deep red curtains and dark wooden furniture. Lisa was sitting on the floor by a small liquor cabinet, glass broken all around her, and Barry had never seen her looking so distraught. 

She was crying, her hair disheveled, makeup smeared, and she only had one shoe on. She looked up blearily as Barry walked in, cradling an open bottle of tequila in her lap and sobbing immediately, "Oh, Barry. The fucking worst thing ever has happened." 

Barry carefully stepped over the broken glass, finding a safe place to sit down beside her. "Hey, hey," he soothed, "What's wrong? Are you okay?" 

"It's Cisco," she sniffled sadly. 

"Is he all right? Did something happen at the hospital?" Barry asked, his brow wrinkling up in concern. 

"No, he's fine," Lisa groaned, "He'll probably be released today. Surgeon said he doesn't need to be cut on, just lots of physical therapy. God, no, this is much worse." 

"What is it?" Barry pressed. 

"I think I'm in love with him," she wailed hysterically. 

Barry blinked. Clearly, there was something he was missing here. "But? Lisa? Cisco is a really nice guy." 

"No, no," Lisa pouted. "You don't understand, Barry. I'm not a nice guy." 

"Of course you are," Barry soothed, "I mean, you're a girl, of course. But you're super nice. You're sweet, you're funny, you're-" 

"A killer," Lisa sighed horribly. 

"What?" Barry gulped. 

"You know how all the cops think Lenny killed Dickie? Well, it wasn't him," Lisa said, taking a long sip of tequila, sniffling quietly. "I did." 

Barry was glad he was sitting down because otherwise he would have fallen over. "Oh. That's... uhm." 

"You want me to say I'm sorry, or, or that it was an accident? I can't," Lisa blubbered, "I'm not sorry at all. He was a prick. A ridiculous fuckin' asshole prick. Who I shot a tiny bit." 

"You shot him?" Barry was stunned. 

"Uhm, about exactly nineteen times." 

"Nineteen?" Barry squeaked quietly. "What did you shoot him with, a freakin' machine gun?" 

"No, my Glock," Lisa clarified. She innocently took a small sip, adding, "I may have reloaded." 

"Oh, reloaded, that's, that's good," Barry panted. 

"Lenny hated him sooo much," Lisa went on, shaking her head, "Said he was just like Lewis, told me I was being stupid... I didn't see it. Until it was too late." 

Barry scooted closer, gently reaching for Lisa's hand. "Did he... did he hurt you?" 

"Yes." Lisa's beautiful face contorted with anguish, sniffling pitifully as an obviously painful memory washed over her. 

"Oh, Lisa," Barry sighed in sympathy, leaning close and pulling his arm around her shoulders. "I am so, so very sorry." 

"Hey," Lisa smiled weakly, shaking her head and saying bluntly, "Shit happens. You know... So. When he was done, I grabbed my gun. I wasn't going to let him hurt me or anyone else ever again." 

"That could considered be a crime of passion, uhm, even self defense under the right circumstances," Barry said quickly, "There are ways-" 

"Barry," Lisa said dryly, "I stopped to reload. Twice. That shows all that cognitive thought shit, so crime of passion would have been hard to sell." 

"Well, maybe..." 

"I unloaded two full clips into him, and then I shot him one more time right in the dick." 

"Oh..." 

"And I tried to set him on fire." 

"Oh." Barry tried not to show how horrified he was, patting Lisa's hand as he stammered, "Well... uh. Mick would have... liked that." 

"That's why they think it's Lenny," Lisa said sadly, "The cops found the body, saw the burns. They think Lenny offed him and Mick tried to hide the evidence." 

"Well, did Dickie have any criminal record? Violent history?" 

"Squeaky clean," Lisa grumbled, "Look, Barry. Lenny and I went through all of this, trying to find a way to sell it. I didn't want Lenny to clean up my mess, but he did. Like he always does." 

"He really loves you," Barry said quietly, offering Lisa some tissues. 

"I know," Lisa sniffed, gratefully accepting the tissues and loudly blowing her nose. "Ugh. It's all such a mess. All of this? This shit. It's my fault. It's why the Santinis came back." 

"Why? Because they thought Len was going to get arrested?" 

"Yup," Lisa popped, rolling her eyes, "Have you met the Rogues? They're all good guys, strong, whatever. But Lenny is the one that keeps them in line, keeps them going. Without him, they'd fall apart. So, if he went to jail..." 

"The Santinis could make a move to take Central back," Barry finished with a frown. 

"Lenny is always so careful," Lisa pouted, "But the cops still found Dickie's body somehow, and everything keeps pointing back to him. All of this shit keeps going wrong, and it's all because of me." 

"Is that why you've been... uhm..." 

"Trying to pickle myself?" Lisa chirped with a swig from the bottle. "Mmm, definitely. Not feeling real super about my first kill, okay. Even if the prick fuckin' deserved it." 

"Do the other Rogues know?" 

"That I killed Dickie? Mick for sure, Nimbus is suspicious. The others, meh. They just figure Lenny did it," she replied with a shrug, her lip beginning to quiver. "Even Cisco... God, he means so much to me." 

"What about Cisco?" Barry asked, petting Lisa's hand soothingly. 

"He thinks Lenny killed him, too," Lisa began sobbing, "And he's so sweet, and so kind, fuck. If he ever found out it was me..." 

Barry almost wanted to laugh, saying sweetly, "You're afraid that Cisco wouldn't like you if he found out you, uh, killed someone?" 

"Would you?" Lisa squeaked miserably. 

"I mean. I know Len has killed people. And I'm sort of, uhm, you know, still with him, and my moral compass has been a tad hazy, and I might be falling for him which is super crazy, and, God," Barry babbled away, trying to aim for comforting, saying more confidently, "I think love is blind. Okay? And I think when you love someone, you look over stuff. No matter how bad it is. And I know for a fact that Cisco is freakin' crazy about you." 

"Really?" Lisa's big blue eyes were wide and hopeful, squeezing Barry's hand. 

"Really," Barry confirmed with a warm smile. 

"Thank you, Barry," Lisa sobbed happily, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. "You're such a good friend." 

"Oh, sure," Barry laughed weakly, wondering if it was possible for his life to get any crazier, "You know, anytime. So... just to make sure we're on the same page. This actually does qualify as super secret mob stuff?" 

Lisa actually laughed, chuckling, "Yes, sweetie. This is super secret mob stuff. Keep your lips zipped, or it's the fishes for you."

"Got it." 

Lisa took a deep breath, straightening herself up and wiping off her face. She smirked slyly, teasing, "You know you totally admitted that you're falling in love with my brother." 

Barry's ears spontaneously caught on fire, stammering, "I-I did? I guess... I guess I did." 

"You guys doing okay?" 

"Uh..." Barry thought about their little tiff this morning that had been preceded by some pretty incredibly passionate sex. "Two steps forward, half a step back?" 

"Progress," Lisa nodded. 

"What about you? Are you gonna be okay?" Barry asked with a little frown. 

"Oh, sure, sweetie," Lisa replied with a bright smile, her usual swagger trying to crawl back into place. "I'll make it."

"Without developing cirrhosis of the liver?" Barry challenged, gently prying the bottle away from her. 

She pouted, retorting indignantly, "Maybe." 

"I think Cisco may surprise you if you let him," Barry said with a bright smile, "You know, just be honest with him. I think you guys could be really happy together." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah," Barry replied, playfully bumping their shoulders together. "Worth a try, right?" 

There was a tentative knock at the door, Jerry hesitantly poking his head inside, asking, "Everything all right now?" 

"Oh, Jerry," Lisa gushed tearfully, "I am so sorry I screamed at you and called you a frog cunt sucking whatever it was. And for throwing a bottle at you. And all that other stuff." 

Jerry smiled kindly, reassuring her, "Think nothing of it, mademoiselle." 

Lisa snatched the bottle back from Barry, smiling sweetly at Jerry. "You're the best. Thank you for bringing Barry. I think... I think we're all gonna be okay now." 

"Of course," Jerry replied, fidgeting expectantly. "Eh, Mr. Allen?" 

"What is it, Jerry?" Barry asked, quirking his brows. 

"You have a visitor, Mr. Allen," Jerry explained hesitantly, "A young lady, very insistent that she must see you." 

Barry frowned. "Young lady?" 

Lisa waved her hand, saying, "Go on. I'll be down in a little while. Jerry, just keep an eye on things for me? Make sure she's cool? Until Lenny gets here?" 

"Of course," Jerry said with an obedient nod, "I'll be waiting downstairs for you, monsieur." 

"So. Len's coming here?" Barry asked casually once Jerry had left. He tried not to sound too excited. 

"Awww, somebody wants to see their loveykins?" Lisa teased, batting her eyes. 

"Yeah, but I don't know if he wants to see me. We had a fight," Barry said with a wrinkle of his nose, "Things were going really well. Like, wow, really well." He blushed, stammering, "But, I think I pissed him off." 

Lisa's lovely face creased with worry, saying, "Well, if you're close enough to actually get under his skin, I'd say you're doing better than you think, sweetie." She ran her hands through her tangled hair, sighing, "Look. I need to freshen up." 

"Yeah, got it," Barry nodded, scrambling up to his feet. 

"We'll talk more later, I promise," Lisa assured him, "If you need anything, Jerry will be keeping an eye on you." 

"Thanks, Lisa," Barry said. 

"Hey, thank you, Barry," Lisa replied with a sweet smile. "Now, go on! Go see who your mysterious visitor is. Maybe it's a talent scout!" 

"Ha! Right!" Barry laughed. 

Lisa blew him as a kiss as he trotted out, taking a deep breath before he started back downstairs. 

Playing matchmaker by assuring his new best friend that her crush wouldn't care about her being a murderess. Yup. Just another day in the life of a mafia boyfriend, Barry thought crazily to himself. 

Things couldn't get any more insane, right? 

Barry looked around to see who his mysterious visitor was, but he only saw Jerry at first. 

"Over there, monsieur," Jerry said and pointed him to a table on the other side of the bar. There was indeed a young woman waiting there, and she stood up when he began walking towards her. 

Barry gawked dumbly, unable to stop himself from smiling when he realized he recognized her, gasping in surprise, "Iris?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy, look, the smut fairy was here again!!! Wooo! Okay, I know this chapter was beastly long, but as usual I couldn't part with a single word of it. Especially that smut. Dat some good smut.
> 
> Lots of stuff happening! Oh, lookie, Lisa killed Dickie! Dun dun dunnnnn! Iris is here! Aghhhhh!!!
> 
> Drama and plots comin' up next!
> 
> EDIT: Oops! Forgot a paragraph or two! Added them in! XD


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a surprise visit from Iris, Barry and Cold make one final deal.

"Why, Barry Allen," Iris West gushed happily, a dazzling smile lighting up her beautiful face, "Look at you!" 

Barry grinned dopily, his cheeks heating up from the appreciative gaze Iris passed over him. "Yeah, uhm, thanks," he said shyly, "But wow, look at you! You look incredible!" 

She did. 

She was even more lovely than Barry remembered, dressed in a cute floral print dress and sandals. Casual and equal parts elegant and stylish. She looked absolutely amazing. 

"Come here!" Iris insisted, pulling Barry in for a big hug. 

Barry didn't protest one bit, laughing, "What are you doing back in Central?" 

"Well, I graduated school a few years ago in Metropolis, interned at the Daily Planet, uhm, moved to Bludhaven for a while," Iris babbled excitedly, "I've just been everywhere! But Central City News offered me a position as a lead reporter a few months ago, and I couldn't resist coming back home." 

"That's awesome!" Barry gushed, "Uhm, wanna sit down? Catch up a little? I've got a few minutes before rehearsal, I think." 

"Sure!" Iris sat back in her seat, smiling sweetly. "Rehearsal, huh? Barry Allen the nightclub singer. Wow. Definitely not what I had pictured for you at all." 

"No?" Barry sat across from her, blushing when Iris scooted down a seat so they were right next to each other instead. 

"No! I thought you'd be uptown in some swanky condo," she laughed, "You know, taking all the big, high dollar cases. Fancy car, Rolex, all that."

"Yeah, not so much." Barry's smile wavered for a moment. Right career, wrong goal. "I've been doing okay, though."

"Well, not to be too forward," Iris said in a voice that indicated she was going to be exactly that, "But Dad told me some pretty crazy stuff. Like, you've been shacking up with a gangster? 

"Uhhh, wow," Barry stammered, "Well. He is not wrong." 

"Barry!" Iris gasped, leaning close as if they were sharing a dirty secret, her hand resting on his arm. "You're seriously dating Leonard Snart? Boss Cold?" 

"Dating is a strong word," Barry admitted sheepishly. "But yes, we've been seeing each other, and uhm, it's... it's going well." 

"I saw them putting your name out on the marquis when I pulled up," Iris squealed excitedly, "I'd say things are going really well. How did you guys meet?" 

"It's an interesting story," Barry replied carefully. 

"I'm a reporter, I love interesting stories!" Iris teased. 

"Okay, well, this is off the record," Barry laughed. 

"I've already been patted down for any recording devices or weapons," Iris assured him, nodding back at Jerry. "Like seriously, he searched me. Little intense." 

"They're very, uh, protective." 

"So, dish!" Iris squealed. "How did you end up with big ol' Boss Cold?" 

"Well, I got into a little financial trouble," Barry began, trying to find the nicest way to explain the unusual situation he had found himself in. "I owed a lot of money to Cold actually. We, eh, came up with a deal to pay it off. He helped me get this job, and uhm, so, I'm paying him back here and there." 

"But you're sleeping together," Iris asked bluntly. 

"Yes," Barry replied, wishing he could stop the flow blood above his neck. 

"Barry," Iris said slowly, as if she was concerned he wouldn't understand what she was about to say. "It sounds like you're prostituting yourself out." 

"No," Barry said quickly, "It's not like that! Not at all! Well. At first, maybe sort of? But everything is okay now. I mean, see, he only came to me because he was trying to get to Joe since he's investigating him, but then Maury had told me that Cold might be willing to make a deal, and he's not worried about Joe any more anyway, and-" 

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down!" Iris looked horrified. "Wait, wait, wait. So, this deal to pay off your debt... came about because Cold thought he could use you to manipulate my Dad?"

"No, well... it sounds really bad when you say it that way," Barry said with a grimace. 

"Yeah, it sounds pretty sick," Iris said, not even bothering to hide her contempt. "What the hell were you thinking, Barry!" 

"I was thinking that I had no job, no money, and no one else to fucking turn to," Barry replied honestly, frowning. "Yeah, it's not a perfect fairy tale or anything, but... it's worked out. I'm happy. I'm doing just fine now, thank you." 

"Getting shot at is just fine?" Iris drawled. "Yeah, Dad told me about that, too."

"That doesn't normally happen?" Barry squeaked in protest, "I mean, there's just a lot of stuff happening right now, and uh, you know. Gangster related... stuff." 

"Barry, you have your whole life ahead of you," Iris chastised, "Why don't you just get out of here and finish school? I still can't believe you dropped out! I didn't believe Dad when he told me. You were doing so great!" 

Barry tried to pull away but Iris held onto his hand, prompting him to sigh in protest, "Look, things are just... complicated." 

"I'm worried about you," Iris said sweetly. 

"Yeah. So worried you waited until today to find me," Barry said with a faint scowl. 

"Barry," she scolded. "I've thought about you all the time. I'm-" 

"Didn't you say you've been back in Central for months?" Barry demanded, eyeing his old friend suspiciously. He was happy to see Iris, but the timing of her sudden visit was quite suspect.

"Yes, but Barry, I've been really busy!" she said with a hurt frown. 

"Busy," Barry repeated, "We haven't spoken in years, Iris. You run off to Metropolis for school, I don't ever hear from you. Not a letter, not a postcard. After all of this time, you just come flouncing in here, concerned and caring and you act like nothing happened." 

"I'm sorry, Barry," Iris said, her smile a little sad. "I really want to try being friends again." 

"Do you even remember the last time we talked," Barry said slowly, his eyes filling with tears, "Thanksgiving I think. Like, six years? Five? When me and Joe got into that big fight about my Dad. Which, by the way, ha! Not once have you asked about how my Dad is doing. Not once is he okay, how he's holding up." 

"Well, Barry, he's in prison," Iris said softly, "What do you want me to say?" 

"Maybe to actually give a shit?" Barry spat bitterly. "To maybe think for yourself for once and not parrot back everything that Joe fuckin' says?" 

"Barry," Iris scoffed, shocked by his tone and language. 

"Come on," Barry sighed with a sad shake of his head, "If Joe told you the moon was made of ice cream, you would ask what flavor."

"That's not true, I do question him! Constantly!" 

"Not about my Dad," Barry accused. 

"Barry, I'm very sorry," Iris said, her voice strained yet firm, "But your Dad is exactly where he belongs. In prison."

She might as well have slapped Barry right in the face. He swallowed back a few bitter tears, asking flatly, "Why are you really here, Iris?" 

"Dad wanted me to try and talk some sense into you," Iris replied honestly, crossing her arms over her chest, "See if it's not too late to save you before you get yourself killed." 

"So, you came to do Joe's dirty work?" Barry accused. 

"I came here because I'm worried about an old friend," Iris sighed, pressing forward and resting her hand on Barry's leg. "We used to be so close, Barr. I still do care about you, believe it or not."

Barry hated how her touch made his heart flutter, getting lost in her beautiful brown eyes. He shook his head, patting her hand as he said, "And I care about you. But... this is what my life is now. I'm finally get shit straight. I know it doesn't look like it, but I am.

"I have a new job that pays really well, I'll be able to get my student loans under control in just a few months. I mean, crap, I actually will be able to go back to school eventually. I'll be able to pay for it all myself.

"And I don't care what you or Joe or anybody says about Cold. You don't know him like I do. There is so much good in him. The way he cares about the people close to him, how he tries to help them. He really believes in me; something you and Joe never did." 

"Barry," Iris pleaded, "You're talking about a convicted murderer. A criminal who-" 

"Who has done nothing but take care of me," Barry said firmly, "Look, it was really good to see you, but I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave him, and I definitely am not going to do anything to help Joe." 

"You used to care about doing what was right," Iris challenged, "And now, this... this place, your job, even that suit. I don't even know who you are." 

"Well," Barry said with a sad smile, recalling Iris' earlier comment about Rolexes and a swanky condo. "I'm starting to think you never did." 

"Barry, please," Iris sighed, "I want to help you. My Dad wants to help you." 

"I'm good," Barry said stubbornly, "Really." 

"You're going to get yourself killed or end up in prison like your Dad," Iris warned, "I don't want that for you! We can still get you out of this mess. You could come stay with me or Dad, I might be able to help find you a new job." 

"Your generosity is amazing," Barry laughed bitterly, "I'm just, wow, blown away. You know I almost starved one time? And oh. There was that time I almost died because I couldn't afford to go see a doctor. I was almost homeless more times than I can count. And where was your concern then? Where was Iris and Joe wanting to save Barry then, huh?" 

Iris was silent. 

"Oh, but now! Now that I'm with Cold, all of a sudden you want to come save me," Barry went on, too disgusted to even care how nasty he was being, "What freakin' right do you have? You can't just magically pop up and pretend all those years you weren't there for didn't happen and decide that you and Joe know what's best for me!" 

Barry was on his feet, prying Iris' hands off his leg, his anger compromised by his aching heart. He had been in love with Iris once, and maybe in a way he still was. It hurt deeply that she had only come here to do Joe's bidding. 

"I think it's time for you to go," Barry said quietly, crossing his arms firmly. 

Iris rose up slowly, winding her arms around Barry's shoulders and pulling him into a gentle hug. She sounded broken, saying quietly, "I'm so sorry, Barr. I wasn't... I wasn't always a good friend. I know that. I can't take it back, and I'm sorry. If you ever change your mind-" 

"I won't," Barry promised her, but couldn't stop himself from hugging her back. "It... it really was good to see you." 

"You, too," Iris sighed, still holding him close. "Maybe I'll come and catch your show sometime?" 

"Yeah, I'm sure Joe would love that," Barry snorted. 

Iris pulled back to fix Barry with a stubborn look. "I really don't always listen to Joe, you know. I am my own person." 

Barry raised a skeptical brow, saying dryly, "Really?" 

"In fact," she laughed, "I have my own dating drama. Not nearly as exciting as dating a gangster, but I'm dating a cop." 

Barry burst into laughter, stunned. "Wow. I bet Joe freakin' loves that." 

"It's his partner, too." 

"Holy crap, okay," Barry conceded with a small chuckle, "Iris West is her own person. Got it." 

Iris smiled sweetly, saying, "Damn right I am. And I didn't just come here because Dad told me to. I did come because I really care, Barry. I'm just... this is crazy." 

"I know that," Barry sighed, "But I'm happy. Maybe I am crazy, but this is it for me. I really wish you all the best, Iris, I really do, but I'm not going anywhere." 

Iris looked heartbroken, but she nodded tearfully. "Well, you're an idiot," she said with a small laugh, "But you're a grown idiot, and I can't change your mind, so." 

Barry hugged her tight, closing his eyes and rubbing her back soothingly. He knew now that the distance between them would likely never be repaired, but he could hold onto this moment. 

He could remember the girl he loved and the friendship he mourned, knowing that some things were just not meant to be. Maybe in another lifetime, but not this one. 

"If you try to print any of what we talked about, I'll sue you for libel," Barry teased softly. 

"You're not a lawyer yet," Iris laughed. 

"Yeah, well, I can afford one now," Barry snickered, "So, just watch out." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Iris promised, kissing Barry's cheek tenderly. 

Barry blushed, smiling sweetly at his old friend. 

Jerry cleared his throat loudly. 

Boss Cold was here, Nimbus and Mardon flanking either side of him. They were all dressed to the nines, and Barry had no problem admitting how weak in the knees the sight of Cold in a suit made him. 

Black pinstripe with fresh lillies pinned to his lapel, white spats, Christ. Barry was more than pleased to see Iris checking him out. Criminal or not, even she couldn't deny how stunning Cold looked. 

Barry hadn't even heard them come in, blinking in surprise as all three men stared him and Iris down. "Uh, hey!" 

"Miss West," Cold greeted with a click of his tongue. 

Oh, he looked angry. Deceptively calm on the outside, but Barry knew better. Cold was severely pissed off. He gently pushed away from Iris, smiling bashfully. 

He didn't know why, but he felt an odd lurch of guilt, as if Cold had walked in on him doing something much more intimate than hugging. 

"You know who I am?" Iris scoffed, arching her brows in surprise. 

"I know a great many things," Cold replied shortly. 

Yeah, like where you live, Barry thought to himself with a gulp. He gave Iris a quick pat on her shoulder, saying quickly, "Look, it really was great catching up and all, but uh, take care of yourself, okay?" 

"You, too," Iris said, offering a sympathetic smile. "Take care, Barry. Try not to do anything stupid." 

"Not making a promise I can't keep," Barry said with a little shrug and a smirk. "Goodbye, Iris." 

"Bye, Barry!" She waved, nervously making her way around Cold and the Rogues, departing quickly. 

Barry bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet, turning back at Cold. "So, uh-" 

"Upstairs," Cold barked, his voice so loud it made Barry flinch. He took a deep breath, more calmly adding, "Right now." 

Barry could hear Mardon and Nimbus snickering to themselves as he raced up the stairs to the office, his heart pounding with dread. It was the same feeling of trepidation as being marched through school to see the principal. He wasn't sure what exactly he had done wrong, but it was very obvious Cold was not happy with him. 

Cold looked around the office disgustedly as he walked in, groaning, "What the fuck happened in here." 

"Lisa," Barry explained, "And a half bottle of tequila. She was upset because she doesn't think Cisco will like her any more if he finds out she killed Dickie-" 

"She told you?" Cold stared heavenward, saying out loud to no one in particular, "I'm going to kill her." 

"Look, I'm sorry. She, she wanted to talk, I didn't know what she was going to tell me," Barry soothed, "You know that you can trust me." 

"Oh, can I?" Cold narrowed his eyes into venomous slits, his upper lip curling defiantly as he slammed the door shut behind them. "Is that why I saw you cozied up with Miss West? Because you're so trustworthy?" 

"She just showed up!" Barry protested, eyes wide in disbelief. "I had no idea she was going to be here! Are you being serious right now? Look, I wanted to apologize for this morning. I know I upset you-" 

"After all that I've done for you," Cold seethed, "You let her put her hands on you. Right in front of me." 

"All you've done... are you freakin' high?" Barry argued, throwing his hands up in frustration. "What have you freakin' done for me, huh? Lie to me, manipulate me, use me-" 

"I've clothed you, I've fed you, I've provided for you, I've allowed you to share my bed," Cold snarled back, his voice rising to overtake Barry's. "Everything I have done has been for you!" 

"And for you, too!" Barry countered. "Don't you dare act like you've been some selfless saint! You do remember how this all started, right? Don't insult me like that!" 

"You mean like how you insulted me with Miss West? Hanging all over her?" Cold challenged, his eyes shiny and bright with anger. 

"Oh, my God," Barry gasped as realization clicked into place, "You're jealous." 

Cold scowled, but didn't deny it. 

"She's just an old friend," Barry groaned, exasperated. "And we're probably not even going to be friends now! If you had shown up like two seconds earlier, you would have heard me defending you!" 

"Was that before or after her lips were all over you?" Cold asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. 

"I'm not freakin' interested in Iris!" Barry pleaded desperately. "I don't want her!" 

Cold did not look convinced. 

Barry was getting frustrated, snapping, "You're all that I want, Len! Just you! It's crazy and it's stupid, but I do. Even when you push me away all the time, even though you refuse to kiss me-" 

"I am giving you everything I fucking can!" Cold was in his space in a second, forcing Barry to stumble back into the desk, his teeth bared as he growled quietly, "I have given you so fucking much, and still, you want more! It's never enough!" 

"I'm not going to apologize for going after what I want!" Barry protested passionately, grabbing onto the edge of the desk to steady himself, "I want to be with you, Len! I want this to be real! I don't want to be your freakin' whore any more, I don't want any more stupid deals! Why can't I actually just be your boyfriend? Why can't you just admit-" 

"You're whatever the fuck I want you to be when I want you to be it," Cold snapped back, his hands sliding around Barry's neck. "You're mine." 

"But you'll never be mine, right?" Barry spat defiantly, fingers curling tight around Cold's wrists. "You know, maybe you should be jealous. At least I know Iris wouldn't be afraid to kiss me." 

"Oh, you little fucking brat. You have no fucking idea what it's like to be afraid," Cold sneered, something hurt and wild clouding his eyes. 

"I'm afraid all the fucking time!" Barry wailed, his eyes beginning to flood with tears. "I'm afraid to go to sleep sometimes because of what I might dream about, I'm afraid for my Dad, that something is gonna happen to him in prison, I'm afraid for myself... I'm afraid you're never going to care about me even half as much as I care about you." 

Time seemed to slow down, Cold's hands tight enough to make Barry's breath catch, and he could feel Cold's pulse thrumming rapidly under his fingers. 

Just like the day they met. 

The energy in the air began to shift, the anger retreating from Cold's gaze. He was so beautiful and he looked frightfully lost, staring down at Barry's mouth as if he could find all the answers he needed there. He suddenly lunged forward. 

Cold crashed their lips together in a passionate kiss, their teeth clicking and panting hard. It was messy, heated, and Barry was crying instantly. He had wanted this for so long, squeezing Cold's wrists and pressing his body into his. 

Cold began to regain control, his lips now like velvet, smoothly gliding against Barry's. They tasted as wonderful as Barry had always dreamed, moaning as Cold's tongue seductively slipped its way into his mouth. 

Cold's hands at his neck were firm, tilting Barry's head to find the perfect angle as they kissed, their mouths dancing together so sweetly as Barry's tears began to dry. A kiss had never felt this damn good, giving Cold everything he had, his body trembling softly. 

Barry's knees were wobbling soon enough, gasping, "Can I please... can I please touch you?" 

"Yes," Cold purred, sighing softly as Barry's hands immediately slid up his arms and around his shoulders. 

Barry gasped as Cold grabbed him around his waist, lifting him up onto the desk. The keyboard and a jar of pens clattered onto the floor as he pulled Cold close, wrapping his legs around his hips. He kept kissing him, afraid to lose contact even for a moment. He kissed Cold like he was starved for it, greedily taking every taste and sensation and going in for more. 

Cold's hands were all over him and the way he dominated the kiss, the savage manner in which he just took and took was driving Barry absolutely wild. He wanted Cold inside him now, scrambling to loosen his pants, moaning loudly. 

Cold was on the same page, his hands clawing at every inch of Barry and sliding down his hips. There was hardly any grace between them, trying to unsnap buttons and pull away fabric, desperate to get at each other as quickly as possible. 

Barry palmed the sides of Cold's face, kissing him eagerly, one leg still in his pants and lifting his hips as he yanked down his briefs. God, yes, Cold was going to fuck him right here on this desk, and it was going to be so fucking good. 

This was perfect, this was hot, and wait, why was the door opening. 

Why was Lisa standing there with that smug look on her face, teasing, "Awww, I see you guys have made up!" 

"Working on it," Barry panted, smiling stupidly. 

He was glad to see Lisa had cleaned herself up, makeup and hair flawless as usual, and she had both shoes on now. 

Cold looked annoyed, turning his head to glare at his sister. "Need something, sis? Maybe confess to some more crimes?" 

Lisa grinned slyly. "Oh, I don't know. Let me go commit a few more, and then I'll get back to you." She tried peering around her brother to peek at Barry, giggling, "You guys are definitely working on some lovely indecent exposure charges, you know." 

Cold stared, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, giving his sister full view of his bare ass. "Is this indecent enough for you?" 

"Oh, ew, gross!" Lisa squealed, laughing, "Fine! I'll leave you alone! I just wanted to tell you everyone is here except Mick and Thawne. Have fun making up!" She giggled loudly, quickly exiting and slamming the door. 

Cold rolled his eyes, smirking at Barry. "Making up... is that what we're doing?" 

"I hope so," Barry replied honestly, glancing down at Cold's hard cock bobbing between them. He leaned forward, softly kissing Cold, sighing, "I am sorry, Len." 

Cold flinched slightly, his hands resting on Barry's thighs. 

"I'm really sorry," Barry said again, hoping Cold knew how much he meant it. "I'll try to be more patient. I didn't mean to push you so hard. I just... I need some sort of... commitment."

Cold tilted his head, pursing his lips in that thoughtful way of his, but said nothing. 

"I'm kind of, uh, putting myself out there," Barry said nervously, "Don't leave me hanging. Please. If you don't wanna be mine, I get it. I mean, I don't get it, but... I need something, Len." 

"I spent almost all of my life as property," Cold replied quietly, "I was a thing. To be used however they wanted." He closed his eyes as if to fight off a wave of pain, continuing firmly, "I swore that once I was free, no one would ever own me again. No one. 

"I will never be yours because I refuse to belong to anyone except myself." 

Barry couldn't help the look of despair that came over him, both for Cold's admission of his earlier life and his adamant declaration that he would never be his. He could feel his heart breaking, his eyes already damp with fresh tears. That couldn't be it, it just couldn't be. 

"Len," Barry pleaded softly, ready to fight, ready to beg if he had to. He sniffed, quieting down when Cold shook his head. He wasn't done yet. 

"But," Cold said, his voice smooth and gentle, his hands cradling Barry's face, "What I can give you is this; one final deal. I'm offering you my loyalty, my affection, my home, and my bed. For as long as you want it." 

"And in return?" Barry asked softly, eyes wide and hopeful. "What do I have to do?"

"Be mine, Barry," Cold replied sincerely, "Be mine always. Be loyal to me and only me. Be mine, and I promise that I will always take care of you."

"So," Barry asked coyly, "I'll actually be a mafia boyfriend?" 

Cold scoffed, rolling his eyes as he dryly replied, "Yes, Barry." 

"What about money, all the money I owe you?" Barry asked quickly. 

"Consider it a signing bonus and your debt forgiven," Cold snorted, "I will still help get your father out of prison. You'll continue working here at the club for as long as you'd like, but I still control what happens in the bedroom. My rules, everything at my discretion, always. That's not negotiable." 

"Fine," Barry chirped happily. 

"Now, tell me, Barry," Cold drawled, studying Barry's face carefully, "Is that enough for you?" 

"That's enough," Barry assured him, nodding and smiling sweetly, "That's enough for me. If that's what you're offering, I'm taking it. All of it. I'm yours." 

"Thought you might," Cold teased, tilting his head and capturing Barry's lips in a deep kiss. 

Barry moaned quietly, melting against him. He could feel Cold's cock pressing against his thigh, mewling softly in anticipation. He was already trying to figure out if spit would be adequate enough lube when there was a heavy knock at the door.

"What!" Cold roared, furious at yet another interruption. 

Mick walked in, not deterred by Cold's obvious fury, rumbling, "Hey, Boss. It's time." 

Cold growled, glancing back at Barry and taking a deep breath. 

Mick waved, cheerfully greeting, "Heya, Twig. Glad you're doin' okay." 

"Hi, Mick," Barry sighed, frustrated. "Thank you, by the way. You know, for doing that thing and saving me." 

"Next time, listen to what the fuck I tell you to do," Mick snorted. He looked expectantly at Cold. "Gotta go, Boss." 

Cold tilted his head back, eyes glancing up to doubtlessly curse the heavens, biting out, "Be right there." 

Mick gave them some privacy, retreating out the door, but he left it open. 

Cold dressed himself with a sour sneer, stepping away to allow Barry to hop off the desk. He pulled him in for another deep kiss, letting it linger for a long moment. He sighed, visibly struggling to break away as he purred, "To be continued." 

"Definitely," Barry agreed, struggling to shove his erection away. He made himself presentable, asking hopefully, "Tonight?" 

"Yes," Cold said, "I have important business to attend to. But I'll be home as soon as I can." 

"Okay," Barry said, eagerly going in for another kiss. 

Cold allowed it, gently touching the side of Barry's neck. "Goodbye, Barry." 

"Bye," Barry sighed adoringly, watching the gangster leave. He flopped back against the desk, smiling stupidly. 

Cold had finally kissed him. 

They had kissed, and it had been beautiful and perfect, and Barry knew he was completely head over heels for the gorgeous gangster. They were actually going to be together now as a real couple. Cold's estate was going to be their home now. He was going to be his boyfriend.

Barry had never been so happy. 

He practically floated downstairs to find Cold and the Rogues were all gone, even Lisa. Jerry, chef and race car driver, was also apparently an amateur pianist, waiting patiently for Barry to join him on stage for rehearsal.

They went through the set until Barry was exhausted, Jerry allowing a small break before running him through it a few more times. They stayed until the club was getting ready to open, and Jerry finally agreed to take Barry home. 

Barry was delighted to find all of his clothing had been brought over, but decided to wait before putting anything away. He had a feeling that Cold would be particular about which side of the closet he chose, grinning when he saw his shoebox of photographs at the foot of the bed. 

Inside the shoebox was his mother's jewelry box as well, looking over his little treasures with a happy smile. 

He carefully put the box under the bed, took a shower, threw on his robe, and snuggled into bed to wait for Cold. 

Time ticked by and soon, Barry had started to doze off. He snapped awake when he heard the doors all slamming open, heavy footsteps thundering towards him. He sat up, startled as the lumbering figure of Mick Rory came rushing in. 

Mick looked distraught, his shirt soaked in blood, eyes wild with anger and fear. 

"Mick!" Barry bolted to his feet, staring at all the blood. It was everywhere, trying to keep the room from spinning as he stuttered, "What's, what's wrong? The blood..." 

"It ain't mine," Mick panted, grimacing miserably. "It's Boss'." 

"Len," Barry gasped, his heart seizing against his ribcage. "How bad?" 

"Well, it sure as fuck ain't good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeeee! Oh, look. Another cliffhanger. Oops, how did that happen?! 
> 
> I swear these chapters are only meant to be like three thousand words, and then I dunno what happens. Iris had a lot to say, and you don't tell that girl no. But heyyyy, look, a kiss! Only took twenty chapters... <3
> 
> Thank you for all the beautiful comments and all the love. Five chapters to go! Wooooo!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry takes care of Cold following his injury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Brief mention of past child abuse. Not overly explicit, but please be aware! Tags have been updated.

Barry thought he was going to be sick, his chest crushed by anxiety and fear, whimpering quietly, "Is he... is Len gonna be okay?" 

Mick came forward, big hands grabbing Barry's shoulders and squeezing. "The doc is on her way, okay? But we gotta get ready. Mardon and Hartley are bringing' Boss. They were right behind me. You're gonna help me get all this shit set up." 

Barry was trembling, but nodded tearfully. "Tell me, just tell me what to do." 

"Come on," Mick urged, gesturing to Barry to start stripping the bed. They pulled off all the sheets, Mick throwing down a plastic tarp. Barry didn't even know where he had gotten it from. It was just suddenly there, Mick shoving one end at him to drape over the bed. 

They tucked it all around the mattress, and Mick dragged one of the bedside tables out of the way. 

Nimbus was there next, his face bloodied and carrying a large fluorescent lamp, panting, "They're not here yet?" 

"Does it look like they are?" Mick snapped, taking the lamp and positioning it next to the bed. 

"Fuck you!" Nimbus spat. 

"Fuck you!" Mick barked back, "They'll be here." 

"What happened?" Barry asked in a tiny and frightened voice, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. 

Nimbus glanced at Mick before replying, "Meeting with the Santinis. Went bad. Real bad. We got a rat in the house." 

"You mean a traitor?" Barry clarified. 

"Uh huh," Nimbus said with a nod, "No one knew where the meeting was going down until the last minute. And yet, some fuckhead with a gun came blazing in, aiming for Cold and Matteo Santini. Matteo didn't get hit, but Cold..." 

"He took two bullets, both gut shots," Mick said gently, trying to soothe the terrified look on Barry's face. "He's bleedin' bad, but he's fightin'. Doc Snow is on her way, and that's the baddest bitch I know." 

"Can't, can't you take him to a hospital?" Barry squeaked. 

"And get him arrested? Fuck, come on now," Mick gruffed, "Cops are all over the place as it is now. Another big fuckin' problem." 

"Wh-what is?" Barry stammered, trying to follow along. 

"Cops were on their way before the gunman started shooting," Nimbus explained, "We heard sirens before the first shot." 

"A set up," Barry gasped, hastily scrubbing his hands across his face. "But by who? The Santinis? Would they risk taking out their own guy to get Cold?" 

Nimbus and Mick exchanged concerned looks, as if they had already said too much. Before they could decide, there was a new commotion from downstairs. Barry's heart leapt into his throat and clung to his tonsils. 

It was a rush of raised voices, something being knocked over and broken, and a loud groan of pain. 

Cold. 

Mick and Nimbus rushed off out of sight, leaving Barry to stand there feeling like a fool. He didn't know if he needed to go help, if he needed to be doing something. He was scared and useless, rocking back and forth on his heels by the bed. 

Mick returned, Boss Cold in his arms, limp and pale. "Come here, help me," the giant grumbled at Barry, nodding for him to join him at the bed. "Hold his head." 

Barry obeyed, cradling Cold's head as Mick lowered him down. 

Cold was sweaty, almost gaunt from the blood loss, his eyes fluttering open to see who was touching him. He seemed to relax when he saw Barry, groaning softly. 

"Hey, Len," Barry soothed, sniffling softly as he crawled up on the bed, the tarp crinkling beneath him. He petted Cold's brow, trying to ignore the blood that had soaked his shirt and his pants. He could see it oozing through the makeshift bandage that had been applied to his side, demanding sharply, "Where is the doctor?" 

"Right here," a firm and smooth voice called out, heels clicking loudly on the wooden floors as she approached. She was a tall and thin woman with a shock of peroxide blonde hair. Barry would have almost mistaken her for frail, but her expression told a completely different story. 

Despite her petite frame, her entire energy screamed of danger and strength, quickly gloving up and sitting on the edge of the bed next to Cold. 

A young woman accompanied her, bright and quick, carrying a large surgeon's bag and starting to pull out a plethora of equipment. 

"Shawna," the doctor ordered, "Start two IV's. I want a saline drip and start pushing morphine stat. Mr. Snart is not going to like what we're about to do. Get a blood pack going, too. He's already lost too much." 

Barry was anxious, watching the doctor cut Cold's shirt and jacket out of the way, tearing the fabric until his entire torso was bare. God, he tried not to look, he really did, but he had been aching to get a glimpse of Cold's body. 

He was softer than Barry had imagined, but there was still firm muscle aplenty despite the lack of definition he had always fantasized about. There was a light misting of hair gracing his pecs that grew a little thicker as it traveled down his stomach and below. There was a faint hint of silver even there, and when the circumstances were different, Barry was going take the time to properly appreciate how sexy he thought it was. 

But the scars, the tapestry of agony weaved from a lifetime of abuse, they seemed more horrifying than the two bullet wounds currently spouting blood from his side. There were dozens, all in varying shapes and sizes, too many to count, though there were a definite few that screamed for attention. 

The most obvious was one Barry had seen before, the jagged wreck of tissue that had claimed Cold's right nipple. There was another nightmare of marbled dark tissue streaking across the left side of his stomach several inches over. Despite all the damage, Barry still thought Cold was breathtaking. 

"I'm Doctor Caitlyn Snow, who are you?" the doctor asked briskly, staring Barry down. 

"Barry," he croaked in response, still petting Cold's forehead. 

"He's with Cold," Mick grunted, as if to vouch for his presence. 

Doctor Snow looked less than impressed, saying shortly, "Stay up there and out of my way, and you can stay. Interfere at all, and I'll drag you out myself, got it?" 

"Got it," Barry replied quietly. 

Her gloved fingers pressed around the wounds, prompting Cold to gasp softly and moan. "Both bullets went right through; lucky, just an inch more to the right and they would have hit his liver," she mused. "We have to get this bleeding under control." 

Just an inch, she'd said, those words hitting Barry hard in the gut. They were the words his father had always said to comfort him, and he had never expected them to carry such weight. Cold could have died. After all they had built together, just an inch would have ended it. 

Shawna had already gotten the two IV's going, one in Cold's arm and the other in the back of his hand. Blood and clear fluid were pumping away, and she was drawing up a syringe of medication to push into the line. "Ready, doctor," she said tensely. 

"Go ahead, right now!" Snow barked impatiently, "And give me two sets of hemostats and suture. We're running out of time." 

Shawna scrambled to supply the requested tools, and Barry had to look away while she worked. He kept his eyes focused on Cold's face, watching him slip in and out of consciousness, crying out in pain as Snow dug around inside his wounds. Barry kept dabbing his brow, trying to stay strong, trying not to cry when Cold finally passed out. 

The Rogues were all here now, lining the doorway like mourners at a funeral, all watching silently as Snow worked to save their leader. 

Lisa was a softly blubbering mess, Mick's strong arms holding her tight and murmuring something in her ear to comfort her. Mardon looked grim, and Nimbus hugged him close. Hartley kept wiping his eyes and adjusting his glasses, prompting Axel to lean affectionately against his shoulder. James had grown tired of standing and had flopped onto the floor, holding his face in his hands. 

The fear was thick, making the air hard to breathe. Barry couldn't take it any longer, finally let himself cry, bowing his head and whispering in Cold's ear, "You can't leave. You can't. They all need you. I need you... please. I need you so much. I love you, Len." 

"Barry, right?" Snow asked quickly. 

"Yes?" 

"Please keep your sweet little love confessions to yourself right now," she sighed in annoyance, "I need to concentrate." 

"Sorry," Barry said with a grimace, falling silent. 

After what felt like hours, Snow had finally finished her work and was suturing the last of Len's wounds closed. Shawna helped her roll Cold over to clean up all the remaining blood and apply a thick bandage. She stripped off her bloody gloves, handing them off to Shawna to dispose of along with the soiled instruments. 

She waved at Barry, ordering, "Come on, Casanova. Make yourself useful." 

Barry gently slid off the bed, helping Snow pull a fresh sheet over Cold. Underneath its cover, she pulled off the last of Cold's bloody clothing, leaving him naked underneath. She passed the mess over to Shawna who quickly made it all vanish away. 

Shawna removed the IV's, placing small bandages over the sites while Snow watched her carefully. 

"Want some free advice, lover boy?" Snow asked, glancing away from Shawna's work and quirking a finely manicured brow. 

"What?" Barry asked softly. 

"All that deathbed goopy love shit?" Snow replied briskly. "It was important enough for you to say then, make sure you remember to say it when he can hear you." 

Barry gulped. He had told Len he loved him. He loved him so very much. He smiled weakly, saying, "Thanks. I will." 

Snow turned her head, addressing the other Rogues as well as she said, "He'll be fine. He'll be weak from the blood loss, but he'll recover. I've given him antibiotics to ward off any possible infection and left enough painkillers to take out a few horses." She looked back at Barry. "Keep the wound clean, check for any signs of infection, and keep him on strict bedrest. Or at least in bed." 

"Got it," Barry said eagerly, wiping at his eyes. 

"Call me if you need me," she said curtly, cutting her eyes at Mick as she asked, "I expect my usual house call fee?" 

"Done and done, Doc," Mick replied with a smirk. 

Barry crawled back into bed beside Cold, hating how the tarp crinkled as he moved but desperate to be close to him. He watched as all the Rogues came by to pay their respects, a nod or a small murmur. 

None of them touched him except Lisa who bent down to kiss his forehead, sniffling at Barry, "You take care of him, okay? I'm right down the hall if you need me, and I'll be back to check on you both."

Barry took her hand and squeezed it tight, smiling weakly. "Don't worry, I will. I promise." 

Lisa tried to smile, but the tears wouldn't stop coming and she left quickly, Hartley gently offering his arm to guide her out. Mardon and Nimbus followed, Axel and James soon after. Mick was helping Shawna take down the light and clean up while Snow supervised. It was that moment when Barry realized there was one Rogue missing. 

Thawne wasn't here. 

Not that Barry was unhappy about that. Of all the Rogues, Thawne bothered him the most. Just thinking about how he had looked at him that night at the club made his skin crawl with a fresh batch of heebie jeebies. 

"Nice work, Doc," Mick rumbled as the last of the makeshift operating room was packed away, "We appreciate it. Cold is mighty important to us." 

"Trust me. He'll be just fine," Snow said with a warm smile that seemed unusual for her given her cold bedside manner. 

Maybe it was a special smile, Barry thought, reserved just for Mick; considering the way it made him grin like a little schoolboy. 

Mick reached for her hand, gently pressing a kiss to it as he said, "You're one hell of a broad, Doc." 

Snow actually blushed, laughing quietly, "Why, thank you, Mr. Rory." 

"When ya' gonna let me take you out," Mick asked, still holding her hand, "Let me thank you proper like." 

"Oh, never," she teased softly, "I don't date my patients." 

"You ain't doctorin' on me right now," Mick protested with a charming smile, "But we could play doctor later if ya'd like." 

"On the first date?" Snow pretended to be aghast. "What kind of girl do you take me for?" 

"The kind that don't give a fuck what nobody else thinks," Mick answered honestly, "The kind that might interested in having a real good time with me." 

"Someone's pretty sure of himself," Snow teased coyly. "How do you know for certain that I'd have a good time?" 

"I got my ways," Mick promised her with a sly grin. 

"Hmmm, guess we'll never know," Snow sighed dramatically. 

"C'mon," Mick pressed, nuzzling against her hand. "Don't be like that, Doc. One date. I'll prove it to you." 

"Let's face it, Mr. Rory," Snow replied with a naughty smile. "I'd fall asleep, and you'd fall in love." 

Mick didn't have a response to that, finally releasing his hold and grumbling in defeat. Barry was starting to think it was already too late for Mick.

Snow stood up on her toes, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Rory." 

"Bye, Doc," Mick sighed longingly, watching her and Shawna. He shook his head, mumbling to himself, "Damn, that's one hell of a fuckin' woman." 

Barry tried to subtly get into a more comfortable position, but the damn tarp didn't allow for any silent movement. 

Mick perked up when he heard Barry fidgeting, approaching the bedside to check on Cold. He looked at Barry, mumbling, "You take care of him, you hear?" 

"Of course," Barry promised. 

"I'll be here," Mick said, "Crashin' out on the couch. You need me, holler." 

"I will," Barry assured him. He watched Mick lumber about and turn off all the lights, shutting the bedroom doors carefully. He stretched out beside Cold as close as he dared, closing his eyes and trying to rest. 

He listened to the soft sounds of Cold's breathing, drifting off into a restless sleep. It was still dark outside when he woke up, Cold's hand on him and gasping softly. 

Barry stirred, clicking on the small lamp at his bedside. "Len? Are you okay?" 

"Barry?" Cold's voice was raspy, but his eyes were clear when he opened them, scanning around the room before settling back on him. 

"I'm here, Len," Barry said, gently taking his hand and kissing it tenderly. 

"Mmm, come here to me," Cold commanded, his voice stronger now, reaching up to pull Barry into a surprisingly passionate kiss. 

"Mmmph, Len," Barry mumbled, blushing all over as Cold's tongue slid into his mouth. He tried to pull away to catch his breath, but Cold wouldn't let him budge, kissing him even more deeply. 

Cold's grip was firm, tugging Barry right on top of him and sliding the robe off of his shoulders. Barry tried to be mindful of the large bandage on his side, but it was hard to think straight when he could feel Cold's hot flesh pressed against his. There was absolutely nothing between now, and Cold felt so fucking good. 

His skin was soft, his hair tickled a little when their stomachs pressed together, and Barry was so grateful that Cold finally trusted him enough to be this vulnerable with him. Maybe it was also because of the drugs, but Barry wasn't going to let this chance pass him by. 

Cold's hands were all over him, squeezing, clawing, checking every inch to make sure everything was right as he had left it. Barry kept his hands patiently pressed up beside Cold's shoulders, but not yet touching. He knew he needed to wait. He didn't want to push Cold too far, not after all they had been through. 

Barry could feel Cold's cock hard and urgently pressing against him, impressed he was able to find such passion while so wounded. But he didn't actually want to have sex, did he, Barry wondered crazily. 

"Len," Barry gasped with Cold's long fingers began parting his cheeks, sliding along his hole and back behind his balls. Yup, okay, Cold definitely wanted to. "You're hurt." 

Cold growled softly in response, grabbing for Barry's hand and planting it firmly on his chest. His eyes were full of need, pleading up at Barry as he breathed, "Touch me." 

Barry moaned loudly at the command, eager to comply. He pressed against Cold's skin, dragging through the hair on his chest and savoring the scratching sound it made. He could feel the firm muscle beneath his palm, squeezing happily. 

Being allowed to touch so openly, to see the faint smile curling Cold's lips, this was absolutely heaven. He has to kiss that smile, to taste him, their tongues languidly sliding together as he continued to explore. He touched and petted and groaned when Cold's fingers began to press inside of him. 

"Len," he whined softly, "We shouldn't..." 

"Barry," Cold whined back, mocking Barry's concerned tone before switching to his most seductive drawl, "You're going to ride my cock; nice and slow until I come in you, and if I'm satisfied, I'll let you come, too." 

"Fuck," Barry panted. 

"Mmhmm," Cold purred, nodding towards the drawer. "Get yourself ready for me." 

Barry leaned across him, fumbling to grab the lube. His hands were shaking, slicking himself up and quickly fucking his fingers into himself, grunting softly. 

Cold was watching his face intently, a hand ghosting over his thrusting fingers, feeling what he was doing. His tongue ran over his lips, hungry but patient, purring, "Good boy." 

Barry beamed at the praise, his head tipping back as he opened himself up, moaning quietly when he would hit the right angle to make his legs shake. 

"Just wait until I'm all healed up," Cold taunted, "I'll take you apart myself, piece by piece. Tie you to the bed again, take hours stretching you out... Would you like that, Barry?" 

"God, yes, sir," Barry moaned eagerly. 

It wasn't long before Barry was whimpering and needing more than fingers to fill him, lifting his hips as Cold lined his cock up. Barry slowly lowered himself down, moaning and gasping as his body stretched to take on every inch. The angle made Cold's already thick girth seem almost impossible, rocking his hips a few times as he struggled to make it all fit. 

When Cold was finally fully sheathed inside Barry's body, they both held each other, savoring the connection and panting softly. Barry kissed him tenderly, their bodies pressed flush together, slowly starting to move. 

"There," Cold sighed, sounding relieved and content, "Just like that... just like that." 

Barry was careful, every thrust threatening to make him scream outright from the intensity. Cold had a hand digging into his hip, guiding their rhythm, keeping it slow and passionate as he dragged Barry down for another kiss. Barry never wanted to stop kissing him, drunk on the flavor and his lips soon raw from the sweet friction. 

He kept rolling his hips under Cold's firm guidance, his hands dragging back over his chest and stomach. It was getting harder not to take more, desperate for more sensation but striving to be obedient. 

Cold seemed to be having the same struggle, soon arching his back and flexing his hips for Barry to take his cock even deeper. "Yes," he hissed, fighting through the pain to start thrusting into him, "Fuck..." 

Barry pushed himself up, hands firmly pressing on Cold's chest to hold him in place. "Len... let me. Let me take care of you." 

"Barry," Cold grumbled, a warning. 

"I've got you," Barry promised, starting to rock his body with more purpose, sitting almost straight up and balancing himself on Cold's cock. It was almost too much to handle in this position, his head falling back as he groaned, but he was determined to do this. 

Barry rolled the entire line of his body into every slam, crying out passionately as he moved. He let his hips do all the work, riding Cold hard, dragging his fingers down his stomach and giving him everything he had. Cold's hand grabbed Barry's, tangling them together as he gazed reverently up at him. 

Barry had never felt more beautiful than at that moment being the sole focus of Cold's awestruck stare. 

"Close," Cold sighed, panting harder and louder than he ever had before. He was sweating all over, grunting as Barry fucked himself down on his cock even harder. 

"Come on," Barry pleaded, "I want your come, please." 

Cold growled at that, his body tensing beneath Barry. "Fuck," he hissed, grabbing for Barry's cock and stroking him hastily. "You've been so good. Come with me, now." 

Barry whimpered, thrusting into Cold's hand as he desperately sought to take them both over the edge. When it came, it wasn't a sudden drop. It was a warm and soothing wave of pleasure, feeling Cold pulsing deep inside of him as he released into his palm, moaning and shuddering together. He could feel the tingles of ecstasy setting every nerve in his body ablaze with sensation, struggling to keep the feeling going for as long as he could. 

Barry's heart had never felt so full, his eyes wet with tears and overwhelmed knowing he could have lost Cold today. Just an inch, Snow had said. 

As the last few tremors were leaving him, he looked down at Cold and he had to release some of the emotions threatening to choke him. He swallowed back a thick cry, gasping passionately, "I love you." 

Cold looked terrified, trapped by those powerful words without no way to respond. He had to pull Barry down into his arms, had to kiss the sobs right out of his mouth, holding him close and nearly crushing him. "Oh, Barry," he sighed, "I know... fuck, I know." 

Barry clung to him tightly, sobbing against his chest as he let it all out, whimpering, "I love you so much, Len." 

"I know," Cold soothed, gently rubbing Barry's back, peppering his face with sweet little kisses. He held Barry as if he was afraid he might disappear, keeping him close long after his cock had slid out and they were both a cold, sticky mess. 

Cold didn't need to say it back. Barry could feel it in his tender kisses, the stroke of his hand across his spine. He knew Cold loved him, too. 

Cold released Barry long enough for him to grab a damp washcloth to clean them up, protesting lightly, "This is supposed to be my job." 

"I can take care of you sometimes," Barry said with a loving smile, sliding back into bed beside him and snuggling against his uninjured side. 

Cold grunted at that, lazily winding his arm around Barry. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Hmmph. We'll see about that." 

Barry smiled softly, his hand gently wandering up Cold's chest. He found a particularly intricate scar that looked like a jagged bolt of lightning, tracing it with the tip of his finger. 

"Beer bottle," Len said quietly. "Twelve." 

"You were twelve?" Barry repeated. 

"Mmm." 

Barry's fingers traveled up to the large scar that rippled across Cold's breast. 

"Ah, decided I was going to be daring and get my nipple pierced when I seventeen," Len snorted, "Lewis tore it out. Got infected. Never healed right." 

Barry grimaced, moving his hand down to touch the other large scar that stretched across Cold's side. 

"First time Marco Santini told me to use my mouth on him and I refused," Cold said, his eyes closing softly. 

Barry froze, his insides clenching in sympathy. 

"Ironic thing about the Santinis," Cold drawled bitterly, "They're quick to bash someone for being gay, but they're not real picky about where they put their dicks if they don't think anyone will find out." 

"I'm so sorry, Len," Barry said quietly. Sorry didn't seem right. It didn't seem like a strong enough word to convey how much his heart hurt to know how Cold had suffered. 

Cold shrugged, sighing, "I'm only sorry I didn't do it sooner." 

"How old...?" God, he shouldn't ask. 

"Sixteen was the last time," Cold replied, "Ten was the first." 

"Christ," Barry muttered, cuddling closer as if he could leech out all those bad memories with his embrace. Realization began to creep over him, exclaiming, "Holy crap. I've been such an asshole to you." 

"Hmm?" 

"After everything you've been through, and I've been pushing you so hard," Barry clarified, peering owlishly up at Cold. "You know. To be more... physical. I should have known. I mean, at the least I should have been more respectful. And the kissing, I had no right-" 

"While I do appreciate that and hope this new knowledge allows you to make more respectful decisions in the future," Cold said quickly, "I don't need your pity. It was all a very long time ago." His eyes flickered open to appraise Barry with a smug smile. "You hadn't even been born yet." 

"Still, I'm sorry." Barry rolled his eyes, scoffing, "And come on. You're not that old." 

"How old do you think I am, Barry?" Cold asked, amused. 

"Uh... Thirtyish something?" 

"Flatterer," Cold snorted, "I'm going to be forty five on Friday." 

"Forty... wow," Barry gasped, honestly quite surprised. He did some quick math, grinning. "You're nineteen years older than me." 

"Mmhmm. Why are you smiling like that?" 

"It's just something about that damn number," Barry laughed, "I swear, it's been following me. Just seems fitting." 

"Oh?" 

"Like the universe is telling me this is exactly where I'm supposed to be." 

Cold smiled at that, kissing Barry's forehead. "Mmm, maybe it is." 

"Yeah?" 

"Or maybe you're just crazy." 

"That, too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo, smut fairy visit! Please excuse my terrible medical jargon nonsense, I got my doctor permit thing from WebMD. Doctor Kat should never operate on living people.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold offers Joe a deal of his own.

Barry woke up in Cold's arms, smiling brightly to have his boyfriend curled around him. In all of their time together, this was the first time he hadn't woken up alone. He took full advantage, snuggling close and burying his head against the crook of Cold's shoulder. 

"Mmm, morning," Cold mumbled, peeking open an eye to peer down at Barry. 

"Good morning," Barry chirped, his hand lightly resting on Cold's stomach. "How do you feel?" 

"Like someone shot me," came the droll reply. 

"Want your medicine?" Barry asked, glancing to the bottles Doctor Snow had left for him on the bedside table. 

"Not yet," Cold said with a shake of his head, "I need to think." 

"About last night?" Barry asked carefully. "Nimbus and Mick said there's, uh, a rat?" 

"Absolutely there is," Cold said with a faint scowl. "Someone has been working very hard to start another war between the Rogues and the Santinis." 

"I noticed Thawne wasn't here last night," Barry said, biting at his lower lip. 

"Mmm," Cold hummed lightly, "His loyalty is questionable at best. I've long suspected he's up to something, but I need proof." 

"Why? Can't you just..." Barry made a little finger gun motion with his hand. "You know, bang bang." 

Cold actually laughed, though the wince that followed showed he regretted it. "It's more complicated than that," he replied with a small smile, "Thawne has a lot of powerful connections in the city, judges and things like that. Very useful things I don't want to lose if I have to. I must be absolutely sure before I make a move against him." 

"Well, what kind of proof do you need?" Barry asked with a frown. 

"Something more more than my gut. I trust my instincts," Cold said, "And yes, my instincts says it's Thawne, but I need concrete evidence. There's been too much that's happened now for it to be a coincidence. The police finding Dickie's body so quickly, the Santinis' timely return to the city, the attack at the club, the meeting going bad last night... Thawne knows that I suspect him." 

"How do you know that?" 

"Because once he saw I wasn't dead, he ran," Cold drawled, "Above all else, he's a coward. He only joined the Rogues when he was absolutely sure the Santinis were going to lose the war. But being a coward doesn't make him guilty." 

"But why start so much shit?" Barry wondered out loud. "Is he trying to get back with the Santinis? Join their cause?" 

"Possible," Cold mused, "But Italians never forget. Thawne already betrayed them once, they wouldn't trust him." 

"Not unless he did something to prove himself," Barry said, his eyes bright with conspiracy theories rattling his brain. "Like setting you up to take the fall for Dickie's murder. Everybody thinks it was you anyway, right? 

Even your own Rogues do. If he figured out where the body was, maybe he's the one who snitched to the cops so they'd come after you. If he promised the Santinis he could get you out of the way for them, that would be a hell of a way to prove his loyalty." 

"Look at you, Nancy Drew," Cold laughed softly. 

"Well. It makes... sense." Barry blushed. 

"So." Cold tilted his head, thinking for a long moment. "What else?" 

"What?" 

Cold nodded, saying, "Keep going. Thawne tells the Santinis he can get me thrown in jail. He tells the cops about the body. But, the cops still don't have enough to make an arrest and I don't go anywhere. So, what next?" 

"Well, you said something about the Santinis coming back to the city," Barry said, sitting up a little. "Maybe they were getting tired of waiting on Thawne to deliver results, decided to make a move on their own. So, they come back, organize the attacks. It wasn't just the club, right? Some couriers were hit?" 

Cold rolled his eyes, reserving comment on Barry's obvious eavesdropping. 

"And the couriers were Thawne's, so, either he was in on it," Barry went on, the gears in his brain spinning rapidly, "Or, the Santinis specifically targeted his guys to send a message to him for not being able to deliver yet." 

"Possible," Cold agreed, "And the attack last night?" 

"I would need to know what the meeting was about," Barry replied sweetly, batting his eyes. 

Cold snorted, playfully bumping against Barry. "Hmmm. Well, I can tell you that I've been in contact with Matteo Santini since the attacks. Smiled at his apologies and his bullshit. Promised him the return of his father's ring for a peaceful little sit down." 

"Okay, which they already think you killed Louis Santini, right?" 

"Mmmm, I told him it was a recent acquisition," Cold mused. 

"Okay, that... that I don't know about yet," Barry laughed, "But let's say it was Thawne who set up the attack on the meeting. He wants to get you out of the way for the Santinis to move in. And he's already betrayed them once before, so maybe he just wants everybody to go away now? Take over the city himself?" 

"Not bad," Cold said with an approving nod. "You'd make a decent detective if the lawyer gig doesn't pan out, Mr. Allen." 

Barry laughed, shaking his head. "I've probably just been watching way too many movies. I mean, if I was a real detective, I'd know how Louis' ring ended up in my mother's jewelry box." 

"How indeed," Cold said mysteriously. 

"Why won't you tell me?" Barry pouted. 

"Because I'm not sure that I'm right yet," Cold answered honestly. "And to help you, to help your father, I have to be absolutely sure." 

Barry nodded, but couldn't hide his disappointment. He stared off for a moment, hesitating for a long moment. "I still think about her all the time," he admitted quietly, "Do you... do you ever think about your mom?" 

Cold shifted uncomfortably. "Sometimes," he replied softly, "But it's hard to think about someone you never met." 

"I saw her pictures," Barry said sweetly, "She was freakin' beautiful." He smiled, adding kindly, "You look so much like her." 

Cold seemed pleased with that, noting, "Mmm, definitely didn't inherit the talent, that's for sure." He tilted his head, asking, "Did your mother sing?" 

"All the time," Barry said with a grin, "And God, she was so gorgeous. Like, I always used to think she looked like a movie star." 

"Mmm." 

"I have pictures," Barry said, trying not to sound too eager. 

"Let's see," Cold chuckled softly, clearly amused by Barry's excitement. 

Barry bounced off the bed to pick up the shoebox, grinning as he held it tightly to his chest. He picked out the jewelry box, lovingly setting it on the bedside table before crawling back under the blankets with Cold. 

He started flipping through photographs, settling on one of him and his mother at a picnic, offering it out shyly for Cold's inspection. "That's me and my mom." 

Cold quirked a brow, noting, "She's very beautiful, Barry... is this you next to her? You were blonde?" 

"Thanks," Barry gushed, "And yeah! My hair was super light when I was a kid. It started getting darker, eh, around middle school I think." He kept flipping through pictures, finding a portrait from his Little League days. 

"Huh," Cold said, curiously glancing over the photograph. 

"Yeah, and you see my jersey number?" Barry grinned. "Nineteen. See, it's really like my lucky number. I only had nineteen cents in my pocket the day we met. I'll never forget that. Oh, and Lisa shot Dickie nineteen times; well, I don't know if I should count that or not, but eh, still nineteen." 

Cold had the strangest look on his face, staring at the young picture of Barry. 

"What? Is my number story not exciting enough for you?" Barry teased. 

Cold looked up at him, saying slowly, "Barry..." 

"Yes?" 

"I know who killed your mother," Cold replied firmly. There was not a shred of doubt in his eyes. 

Still, Barry scoffed. "Come on." 

Cold didn't say anything. 

"You're serious," Barry demanded. "Well... who?" 

Cold closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and gently taking Barry's hand. "I can't tell you." 

"What the hell, Len?" Barry jerked his hand away, hurt and confused. "You just suddenly somehow magically figured out who killed my mother, and you won't freakin' tell me?" 

Cold reached for Barry's hand again, his voice soothing as he tried to explain himself, "Barry. Do you want to get your father out of prison?" 

"Of course I do," Barry fussed, desperate to understand. "But what does have to do with-" 

"Everything," Cold said quickly. His eyes were actually pleading, a quality Barry had never seen before with Cold. 

"I don't understand." Barry's stomach tied itself in several knots, frowning as all of his insides began to churn. 

"I need you to trust me," Cold said quietly, "And I am going to invite Detective West over as soon as possible." 

"Are you freakin' kidding me?" Barry snapped, his voice hitting a particularly shrill note. 

"Yes," Cold said stubbornly, "He has his part to play in all of this. If we're going to get justice for your mother and save your father, we need Detective West's assistance. We need proof." 

"He's not gonna help," Barry scoffed. 

Cold laughed and smiled slyly. Ah, there was the charming gangster Barry loved so dearly. "Oh, yes, he will," he said smugly, "I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse." 

"Too early to be quoting _The Godfather_ ," came a loud grumble from the other side of the door, prompting both Cold and Barry to laugh. 

"Good morning, Mick," Cold chuckled. 

Mick pushed open the bedroom door and lumbered in, a little tussled from sleep. He had changed out of his bloody clothes, wearing a thin tank top that stretched over his broad chest and sweats. 

Barry did his best not to stare at the burns that mottled so much of his exposed flesh, offering a friendly smile. 

"What? No breakfast in bed for the patient?" Cold pouted at his friend. 

"Fuck you. You can get it yourself. I know you're feeling fine 'cause I had to fuckin' lay there and listen to you givin' it to Twig last night," Mick said dryly, rolling his eyes at Barry. 

Barry's face flooded a spectacular shade of red, stammering, "Wait, you, you were out there? In the den?" 

"I said I was crashin' on the couch," Mick replied. "What fuckin' couch did you think I meant?" 

"Not that one!" Barry groaned. 

Cold grinned, warmer than Barry had seen before, laughing softly to himself.

"So. What's the word, Boss?" Mick asked, quick to get to the business at hand. They had just been attacked for the second time. They had to make a move. The giant was obviously antsy for direction. 

"Get Nimbus and Mardon, see if they can find our good friend Thawne," Cold commanded sternly, that particular tone making Barry shiver. "Detective West is going to be paying us a visit today. If I'm right, we have a beautiful opportunity to end the war and take out the trash at the same time." 

"Think Thawne's turned?" Mick said bluntly. 

Cold glanced at Barry, his eyes flickering back to Mick, replying carefully, "I think it's safe to say he's no longer our friend." 

"Got it," Mick rumbled. "What do you need me to do?" 

"Keep everyone calm," Cold ordered, "I have a plan. Tell them this will all be over by Friday. I still have the ring, and I'm sure Matteo Santini will agree to another meeting. If Nimbus and Mardon can't locate Thawne, tell them not to worry. I expect we'll be seeing him again soon."

"You got it, Boss," Mick nodded, smirking softly as he added, "Don't fuck yourself up gettin' your fuck on, all right?" 

Barry's blush blazed bright while Cold snorted in reply, "I'll be fine. Worry more about our crew and less about my dick." 

Mick cackled to himself as he left, the doors all slamming shut in his wake.

Cold stretched his legs and grimaced, eyeing Barry with a playful smirk. "Well, I need to take a shower..." 

Barry expectantly began to move out of the way, blinking when Cold's gaze lingered. 

"Join me?" Cold asked, scanning his eyes over Barry with a wicked smile. 

"Oh, God yes." 

The shower was more than enough to accommodate two grown men, and it was wonderful to share such an intimate ritual with Cold. Soap and lathering hands quickly turned to hot kisses and their fingers tangled together as Cold pressed him against the tile. It was slow, passionate, and Barry never wanted to leave the bathroom. 

When they were finally finished, Barry helped Cold dry off and change his bandages. Cold helped place a fresh dressing on Barry's arm, Barry suddenly laughing, "Look at us and our matching gun shot wounds." 

Cold rolled his eyes, and kissed all the giggles right from Barry's lips. 

They got dressed, Cold taking his time and insisting he didn't need any help. Barry finally asked what side of the closet he could use for his things, and Cold snorted, pointing to another door. Barry had always assumed it led to an office, delighted to find it was another massive walk in closet, completely empty and just for him. 

They ate a late breakfast, entertained by Mick and Jerry screaming at each other in a broken mix of English and French. Mick kept snatching food away, and as best as Barry could make out, Jerry was threatening to put his spatula where no spatula shoulder ever go. 

Lisa joined them, smothering her brother with kisses and tearful hugs, joining in the barrage of spatula threats if Cold ever made her worry like that again. 

Mick and Cold talked amongst themselves for a while, and Lisa got ready to leave for the club. Cold made a few phone calls, rejoining Barry at the table when he was done and Mick had left. 

"Detective West is on his way," Cold informed him, his demeanor becoming distant and firm. "You don't have to be here when I talk to him." 

"I want to be," Barry said stubbornly, "Especially if it has to do with my mother. I deserve to know." 

"As you wish," Cold replied with a small shrug. He pressed a chaste kiss to Barry's forehead, reminding him, "You probably won't like what I say to him. Or what he says to me. Remember who this is for." 

"You?" Barry replied dryly. "I know you want Joe to leave you alone-" 

"And I want to help your father, for you," Cold smoothly cut in. "It's for both of us." 

Barry nodded, fidgeting as Cold led him to the living room. He left briefly to bring in a large box, dropping it down next to the coffee table. He sat in a plush chair, neatly crossing his legs and leisurely leaning back. 

He looked like a king preparing to hold court, Barry clumsily plopping down on the sofa next to him. He was surprisingly nervous. He and Joe hadn't parted on the best of terms, and while he knew Cold had special ways of being persuasive, he still didn't think he would able to convince Joe to help them. 

They only had to wait a few more minutes before Joe arrived, looking around the room with a sneer. He didn't want to touch anything, as if the very furniture was covered in a thin veil of slime. He looked between Barry and Cold, snapping, "Well. I'm here." 

"Thank you for coming," Cold purred graciously, gesturing for Joe to have a seat across from him. 

"You said Barry needed help," Joe said shortly, getting right to the point. He hesitated, but finally sat down. "That's the only reason I came." 

"I'd like to make a deal, Detective," Cold said, smiling slyly. 

Joe scoffed. "Ha, you mean like the one you have with Barry?" 

Cold quirked a brow, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Hmmm, know about that, do you?" 

"Yeah, Iris told me all about your sick little arrangement," Joe said, his tone dripping with disgust. "What you did to Barry because you wanted to get me to drop the investigation?" 

"Mmm, did she now," Cold snorted, cutting his eyes at Barry. 

Okay, so maybe he shouldn't have told Iris, Barry conceded with a grimace. He should have known she would tell Joe what they had talked about. He wanted to explain that there wasn't technically any deal any more, that he and Cold were really together how, but kept his teeth together. 

"Yeah," Joe spat heatedly, "And you know? I've got a deal for you, Snart. Let Barry go, let him walk away from this, and I won't bring you up on prostitution charges. How's that?" 

Cold looked thoughtful again, his lips curling into a calculating pout, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. He smiled, replying quietly, "No." 

"No?" Joe scoffed. 

"I have a much better idea," Cold said, "How about you drop your little murder investigation, I get to keep Barry and continue doing whatever I want to him. In exchange, I don't turn you into the authorities for tampering with evidence. I think that would be much more helpful to Barry, plus you get to avoid several felonies." 

"What evidence?" Joe demanded. His eyes were wide, and Barry could see a twinkle of fear. 

"Before I met Barry, I took the time to do my research," Cold said carefully, "I never anything without being fully prepared. Background check, known associates, the works. I also read the case file that's currently on record with the CCPD for Nora Allen's murder. Read every detail. 

"Funny, though. According to the current version of the report, he was asleep at the time of his mother's murder. Imagine my surprise when Barry told me he saw the whole thing. How curious." 

Sweat began to bead along Joe's brow, but he said nothing, so Cold continued. 

"I'm sure you've heard of Geemaw," Cold drawled, "Very lovely lady, fabulous baker. Did you know she made copies of every file she ever transcribed for the CCPD while she worked there? Wasn't hard to get a copy of the original report. You know, the report that's in your handwriting that includes Barry's original testimony and eyewitness account of his mother's tragic death." 

Joe's jaw was tight, licking his lips slowly. 

"And yet," Cold gasped, clicking his tongue as he spread the file out across the table between them, "You went on and filed the report a second time, but this time your story had changed. All trace of Barry witnessing the crime had been removed." 

"I was trying to protect Barry," Joe said quietly, glaring harshly at Cold. 

"Oh, one second," Cold said, reaching down into the box next to him. "See, I thought you might say that." He brought out a stack of files, a dozen at least, dropping them down on the table with a loud slam. "Were you trying to protect Barry when you altered all of these reports, too?" 

Joe leaned back in his chair, hissing, "You motherfucker..." 

Cold looked triumphant, saying sweetly, "I decided to stop at nineteen, seemed like a good number." He smiled over at Barry before turning his icy gaze back at Joe. "In at least nineteen cases, I can prove that you altered evidence to make arrests." 

"Every single one of those men were guilty," Joe challenged passionately, "They were low life scumbags, just like you, who had managed to beat the system over and over again. Everything I did was to ensure justice would be served." 

"And Henry Allen? He was another scumbag? And you just had to make sure that justice would be carried out?" Cold pressed. "Or did you have some additional motivation?" 

"What are you implying?" Joe snapped. 

"Back in the days when I was Captain Cold, the Santini family made several, hmmm, contributions to the Central City Police Department," Cold chuckled fondly, "Some of the names in those files looked awfully familiar to me. I began to notice a rather distinct pattern." 

"Fuck you, Snart." 

"I'll pass, but how about you tell me about Nora Allen. Did you or did you not receive compensation to tamper with the investigation?" 

"Even if I did," Joe raged, "It wouldn't change the facts. Henry murdered his wife, I know it." 

Barry squirmed, Joe's anger pulsing the very air in the room. 

"How can you be so sure?" Cold pushed, never flinching. 

"Because Nora called me the night she was murdered," Joe said, his expression grim. 

The oxygen all seemed to drain away, Barry left gasping as he stared at Joe. "She... called you?" 

Not once in all of these years did Joe ever mention his mother calling him. His eyes began to sting with tears, voicing his pain, snapping, "She called you! She called you, and you never told me?" 

"You didn't need to know," Joe said firmly even as his lip began to twitch and tears clouded his gaze. 

"Oh, but I think he does," Cold snarled, "If you don't tell us right now, I will take this beautiful pile of evidence to the nearest news station. I'll even be kind enough to take it to the one your daughter works at. I'm sure she would love that." 

Joe tilted his head skyward, blinking back tears. 

"Hmmm, 'Detective Takes Mob Moolah To Make Unlawful Arrests'," Cold suggested, "I think that's a good headline, don't you? Oh, well. I suppose we should let daughter dearest pick it out." 

"Fine," Joe hissed. He was trapped, speaking slowly and defining each syllable as he called on old memories, saying, "She called me from the house. Phone at the jewelry shop was out again. She started to complain about a customer who had been giving her a hard time..." 

"I've seen the files. There was a robbery the same night she was murdered," Cold interjected sharply. "Was it-" 

"No, that was after Nora was killed, and only one item was taken," Joe scoffed, miffed at being interrupted. 

Cold scowled, flicking his fingers in annoyance for Joe to continue. 

"She called me. Some customer had been a jerk, and I heard Barry in the background," Joe went on, his eyes moving towards him, mournful and sad. "I could hear Barry, how excited he was, calling out, 'Daddy's home! Hey, Daddy's here!' And... and that's when Nora started screaming." He closed his eyes, tears falling freely down his face. 

Barry's heart had twisted into a knot, hanging on Joe's every word. This wasn't right. He didn't remember his father coming home before his mother was killed. That didn't happen until after it was already too late. 

"Nora started screaming, 'It's him, Joe! It's him!' Barry was crying, he was crying so much." Joe took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking as a decades old weight was finally lifted, gasping, "Barry kept crying, crying, 'No, Daddy! No!' Nora was screaming for Barry to run. And the line went dead. That was the last time I ever heard her voice." 

Barry was frozen, he couldn't breathe. It couldn't be true. That's not what happened. Henry wasn't there. He wasn't. He started panting, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair. 

The night started happening all over again in his head. He couldn't take a breath in, trembling down to his bones as his memories played the horrible event on repeat in his brain. 

He saw his mother being stabbed repeatedly, he saw the Man in the Yellow Coat standing over her with the knife. He knew it wasn't Henry. He couldn't see the man's face, but he knew deep down in his soul that it wasn't his father. 

"When I saw Henry, he was wearing his rain coat. A yellow coat," Joe went on, his voice shaking. "Barry was still crying about the man in a yellow coat when I got there... he was confused. He saw Henry killing his mother, and I don't think his mind could handle it." 

"No," Barry cried, shaking his head wildly. 

"Barry," Cold began, attempting to soothe and quiet him. 

"No! That's, that's not what happened!" Barry yelled, trying to stand up, but the world jerked violently beneath his feet. All he could hear was his own shaky breathing and his pulse drumming louder and louder, drowning everything else out as his vision went dark. 

He saw something, something new. Something shiny and flickering before him. A door. He knew it was a memory from his childhood because the doorknob was the wrong height. It was so high, too high. Through the glass of the door, bleary and out of focus, he could see a flash of bright yellow. 

Daddy! It was Daddy! His younger self was so excited, giggling as he reached for the lock. 

No. 

No, no. No. 

"The glass. It was foggy," Barry stammered, his chest shuddering as sudden clarity stole away his breath, "I thought it was my Dad. But, but it wasn't! I let... oh, my God. I let him in. _I let him in_." 

"You let Henry in," Joe said, tense and uncertain. 

"No," Barry insisted, the memories flashing vividly before his eyes. He hadn't even realized it, but Cold was suddenly right beside him, folding their hands together. "I thought it was. I did. That's why I opened the door. But I was wrong, God, so very wrong."

The memory continued to move forward, the Man in the Yellow Coat brushing by him and going straight to his mother. They were arguing. The knife, where did he get the knife. It hit her in the stomach first, and that's when Barry started to sob. 

No, Daddy. Not Daddy at all. It wasn't Henry, but why couldn't he see his face. Why couldn't he see who it was that was hurting his mom. 

He let him in. He had let him in. 

Barry collapsed into Cold's strong arms, sobbing hysterically, "It's my fault... the Man in Yellow... I let him in the house. I thought it was Henry. But it wasn't. It wasn't him!" 

Joe had the decency to look upset, but he was still clearly not convinced. 

"Breathe, Barry," Cold ordered, his tone firm and soothing. "It's not your fault." 

Barry moaned softly, crying harder, trembling all over. Maybe Joe was right... maybe Henry... 

No! Barry forced himself to examine the memory, as painful as it was, looking at the yellow coat the man who killed his mother. It wasn't a rain slicker, no, it was a yellow suit jacket. 

The memory was shaky, but he could remember when Henry came home and found him and his mother. Yes, he was also wearing a yellow coat, but it was slick vinyl, still wet from the rain. Barry could recall the wet and damp feeling on his face when Henry hugged him close, much like the damp pressed against his cheek now from crying so much. 

Barry slowly began to calm down, taking deep breaths. He didn't care what Joe said. Henry didn't kill Nora. There was another man there that night. 

Cold held Barry close, gently rubbing his back and not even caring about the wetness he was leaving all over his shirt. He glanced back at Joe expectantly, nodding for him to keep going. 

"When the Santinis contacted me to keep the case rock solid against Henry, I didn't even ask why," Joe sighed, holding out his hands, looking at Barry without a hint of regret. "It wasn't the first time they'd asked me to do something like that... and everything I ever did helped put guilty men behind bars." 

"All men who also happened to be enemies of the Santini family," Cold said dryly, "Except Henry Allen. You didn't find it odd?" 

"If I ever asked questions, they'd start talking about what school Iris went to," Joe said quietly, "I did what I had to do, and I was putting bad men in prison. When you took over, all of that stopped. I never heard from the Santinis ever again." 

"Who contacted you from the Santini family," Cold demanded, "I need a name, detective." 

"Harrison Wells," Joe replied defeatedly. 

Cold's jaw twitched. He knew the name. His lips stretched in a mirthless smile, asking coyly, "Tell me, Detective West. How would you like to help me catch a murderer?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy craaaaappppp, we're almost at the end! I can't believe it! Thank you so much for all the love and kudos and comments and agh! I've had so much fun! Only three more chapters to go! <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold works on his plan while Barry prepares for the party.

It took quite a bit of convincing for Joe to accept Cold's deal. Joe was immediately resistant, and Cold would not back down. Barry wished he had been privy to the entire conversation, but it soon got so heated that Cold asked Barry to leave the room. 

Barry pouted, retreating from the yelling to the parlor at the front of the house. He hated that Cold didn't apparently trust him to know exactly what he was up to, sighing as he flopped into a chair. 

He was still shocked by the mysterious phone call Joe had been keeping a secret all of this time. Now he understood why Joe had been so convinced of Henry's guilt, but it still didn't change Barry's memory of what had happened. He knew his father was innocent, so who was his mother talking about? 

Joe had mentioned something about a customer who had been harassing her at the jewelry shop, and then there was a robbery there the same night she was murdered. It couldn't be a coincidence. Barry was frustrated. It felt like the answer was right there, but he couldn't put it together. 

He knew it had to do something with the ring from Don Louis. 

But what? 

He sighed, aggravated that he couldn't figure it out. That name Joe had said, Harrison Wells, definitely meant something to Cold. As soon as Joe said it, the gangster's face had lit up like it was Christmas morning. 

He thought Thawne was their main suspect, but now he wasn't sure what to think. This Harrison might be the person who killed his mother. He was totally at Cold's mercy for any information, and none seemed to be forthcoming any time soon. 

"Crap," Barry mumbled to himself, wishing that he was an actual detective and could solve this mystery. 

He looked up when he heard footsteps, standing to see who it was. 

Joe was walking by, pausing when he saw Barry. His face looked decades older, tired and sad. "Well," he said grimly, "I see you've made yourself right at home."

"Joe." Barry frowned, wringing his hands nervously. "I understand now why you thought it was my Dad," he began, slowly walking towards him, "I do. But there has to be another explanation-" 

"Barry," Joe said, holding up his hands, "Just stop." 

Barry's heart sank. 

"I've never claimed to be a perfect man," Joe sighed, "I know that I've made mistakes. I've done plenty wrong, and I should probably let Cold turn me in. But... if I can do right by you and Henry..." His eyes began to water. "And by Nora. If I can do right by her, then maybe God will forgive me for all my other sins." 

"Joe," Barry whimpered, wishing he could reach out and embrace him. The chasm between them was still too deep, and he couldn't bring himself to cross it. There were too many years of pain and anger, managing to offer a small smile at least. "Does that mean you believe me?" 

"It means... it means I'm willing to admit I may have been wrong," Joe said, his tone strained, "But Snart is still the worst fucking monster that I've ever met, and I will pray that you wake up one day and see that for yourself before it's too late." 

Barry blinked at the language, trying to respond, "But Joe, he's really not-" 

"He's a monster," Joe fiercely repeated, holding up a stern finger, "If you stay here with him, you're a fool." He didn't give Barry a chance to reply, already heading towards the door. 

Barry started after him, freezing when he saw Mark Mardon and Kyle Nimbus intercepting him. 

"Hey there, West," Mardon said with a scowl, his eyes glittering with rage despite his calm tone. 

Nimbus walked behind Joe, silent and watching him carefully. 

"Hey, Mardon," Joe said, completely fearless. "Wanna get the hell out of my way?" 

"You know, one of these days, I'm gonna get you for my brother," Mardon warned. 

"Well, that day is not today," Joe shot back with a wry smile. 

"Maybe not," Mardon replied, glancing over his shoulder and sharing a smirk with Nimbus, "But damn is it good to see Cold made you his bitch." 

Joe's smile dropped. 

"Have a great day, detective," Nimbus said cheerfully, laughing as Mardon stepped aside to let Joe leave. 

Joe gave Barry one last lingering stare before he walked out, slamming the door behind him. 

Barry felt a hand on his waist, jumping and his heart starting to pound fearfully until he heard a familiar purr, "It's only me." 

Barry whirled around to see Cold standing there, laughing breathlessly, "I hate when you do that." 

"Mmm, I'll avoid it in the future then," Cold promised, gently touching Barry's cheek. His expression became stern, looking to Nimbus and Mardon. "Well?" 

"Nothing," Mardon said, scratching his chin. "His place is cleared out." 

"Snitch at that deli he likes says he's still coming by lunch every day," Nimbus supplied, "So. He's still in town. Want us to grab him today? Bring you back a meatball sub?" 

"Change of plans," Cold said with a smirk, "Thawne doesn't know it yet, but he's going to help us get rid of the Santinis." 

"Oh, is he?" Mardon chuckled. 

"Mmmhmm," Cold hummed without going into any more detail. He looked at Barry, saying, "I actually have a favor to ask of you." 

"Uhm, I guess it depends on what it is?" Barry said slowly. All of this cloak and dagger was certainly exciting, but he still had reservations about doing anything illegal. 

"Go see that charming specimen, Maury the Mouth," Cold said, "I need you to get a special receiver." 

"A receiver for receiving what exactly?" 

"On Friday, we're going to be working with our dear friend Detective West," Cold replied smoothly, "You're still going to perform as scheduled, and you're going to be wearing a wire that West will supply. I need an additional receiver to hear the transmission, and I can't let West know what we're doing. Do you understand?" 

"How is that gonna help get my father out of jail?" Barry demanded, not even caring that he was getting uppity in front of Nimbus and Mardon. 

Cold's hand moved to gently cup Barry's neck, soothing, "You have to trust me." 

Barry closed his eyes, leaning into Cold's touch. He wanted to argue, demand answers, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'll get the receiver thing." 

"Good boy," Cold purred, rewarding him with a kiss on his forehead. "Jerry will take you. Then you have rehearsal." 

"Yes, sir," Barry replied, emphasizing the 'sir' to make Cold smirk. 

Cold nodded at Mardon and Nimbus, the Rogues obediently following him into the back of the house. He watched them leave with a heavy sigh, trudging towards the kitchen to find Jerry. 

It was a relatively quiet ride over to Maury's pawn shop, Jerry electing to stay in the car instead of joining Barry inside. He hurried through the door, bell ringing loudly as he called out, "Hey, Maury!" 

"The fuck you want!" Maurice bellowed from in the back, grumpy as ever. 

"It's Barry!" Barry called, laughing. 

"Ain't you got a phone now?" Maury snorted, his voice getting louder as he made his way to the front. "You know, you can call a motherfucker instead of comin' in here and botherin' 'em." 

"I missed you, too," Barry teased. 

Maury came around the counter to give Barry a big hug, mindful of his wounded arm, laughing, "Yeah, yeah! How the fuck are ya', kid?" 

"Holy crap, Maury! It's been fucking crazy!" Barry exclaimed, quickly launching into a recap of all the exciting events. He kept the truth about Dickie's killer to himself, focusing more on the new arrangement he had with Cold and the confrontation with Joe. 

"Nora called him, and that fuckin' rat never said anything," Maury raged, his cheeks red and blotchy, "All of this time. No wonder they fuckin' convicted Henry so goddamn quick, that fuckin' pig hidin' all the fuckin' evidence!" 

"I know," Barry said sadly, "Joe said he was doing it to protect me." 

"Fuck him, he did it because he was scared of the Santinis!" Maury argued. "Fuckin' prick." 

"Do you know who Harrison Wells is?" Barry pressed hopefully. 

"I know the name?" Maury's brows furrowed up. "Uh... maybe like, eh, fifteen, twenty years ago. Used to work for the Santini family, I know that much. Hadn't heard anything out of him in fuckin' forever." 

Barry frowned, tapping his fingers on the counter. "So, no clue what he would have to do with my mom's murder?" 

"Nope," Maury replied with a shrug. "Sorry, kid. I think he used to do pick-ups at the jewelry store when it was still a front for scrubbin' money, but I don't think Nora would have known him." 

"Well," Barry paused, trying to get his thoughts together, "Do you remember anything about the robbery? The one at the jewelry store the night my mom died?" 

"Not much," Maury said with a regretful frown. "Busted in quick, knew what they were looking for. They were in and out. Thank God Nora had already gone home." 

"But it happened after she died?" 

"No, it happened before," Maury corrected stubbornly. "They got the fuckin' time all fucked up because the alarm was tied in with the phone. Phone went out, times all reset." 

"You're sure?" Barry blinked, his heart starting to flutter. 

"Positive. I know it was before your mom was killed because I remember thinkin' thank God she was safe at home. It was definitely before she died." 

"And what was taken?" Barry's heart started thumping faster. This could be important. 

Maury's face scrunched up as he wracked his brain. "Ehhh, fuck, kid," he sighed, "I dunno. I know it was only one thing missin' 'cause I do remember the owner was rantin' about having to replace the door all 'cause of that. Uhhh... shit." 

"Come on, Maury," Barry pleaded, "This could be really important." 

"Fuck. Sorry, kid. I gots no clue." 

"It's okay," Barry said with a weak smile. "I guess it doesn't really matter. I mean, Cold says he knows who did it." 

"Right," Maury said cheerfully, "And he's turnin' the screws on Joe to get your old man free, right?" 

"I still haven't figured out how," Barry admitted, "He's made some crazy deal with Joe, and it's all going down at his birthday party on Friday. I have to wear a wire and oh! That reminds me. Cold told me to get a receiver." 

"For what?" 

"For receiving... wire... things?" Barry said helplessly. "Joe is giving us the wire, and I guess Cold wants something for us to listen in on without Joe knowing." 

"Why are you wearing a fuckin' wire? Ain't your ass just gonna be up there singing?" Maury blinked. 

Barry held up his hands. "I have no idea. But Joe's agreed to it, so I guess it's all part of his big plan." He pouted. "I just wish he would tell me what he's up to. All the Rogues know what's going on. Even Joe!" 

"Maybe he's tryin' to protect you," Maury suggested. "Or he ain't tellin' you so you don't blow it." 

"Rude," Barry snorted, "I mean..." He fidgeted. "I guess subterfuge isn't exactly one of my best skills?" 

"Barry," Maury sighed heavily. "You can read your fuckin' mug like a book. Like, one of them board books for little babies with the pictures." 

Barry stuck out his tongue in protest, rolling his eyes. 

"Look," Maury said, leaning back against the counter, "I'm still in fuckin' shock Cold gave you a clean slate. He sure as fuck didn't do that just 'cause he likes the way you suck dick, okay? You mean somethin' to him." 

Barry smiled softly. 

"If he ain't tellin' you, there's probably a good ass reason," Maury continued, "He ain't gonna do nothin' to hurt you. And fuck, if he does, it's wrinkly ball time." 

Barry groaned, scrubbing a hand across his face as if he could rub away the awful mental image those words conjured up. "Thanks," he mumbled affectionately, shaking his head. 

"Hey, I love you, kid," Maury said with a small shrug. "I hope this all works out, and I can shake your old man's hand again. I really do. And you're really happy with ol' Boss Cold?" 

"Yeah," Barry replied, unable to resist a bashful smile. "I really am." 

"Just keep your nose clean and stay out of his business," Maury warned, "Still gotta make a lawyer outta you some day. An honest one. Barry Allen, the world's first honest lawyer." 

"Ha, ha," Barry drawled, "Very funny." 

"I'm a fuckin' riot, I know," Maury snickered. He sighed heavily, heading back behind the counter as he said, "Hang tight, I'm gonna get you that receiver." 

Barry waited patiently, surprised when Maury brought back the device and set it down in front of him. "That's it?" 

"What's the matter?" 

"It's just..." Barry picked it up. The receiver was roughly the size of a hand held radio, although there were more knobs and the speaker was larger. It was heavier than it looked, peering at it curiously. "Little?" 

"Hey, that's modern tech for you," Maury said with a smirk, "Everything's all super compact and shit now. You could put this little Betty right in your pocket, nobody'd ever know. There's even a plug for some headphones." 

"Cool," Barry said, sliding it into his pocket. 

"Hey, kid." Maury cleared his throat. "You gotta pay for that. I ain't running no charity here." 

"How much is it?" Barry asked mournfully. Damn, why didn't he ask Cold for any money. 

"More than you can afford," Maury teased, "Tell you what, since we're such good friends and all, how's about I make you a little deal since you seem so into 'em?" 

"Oh, God. What?" 

"Take the receiver, lemme keep all your shit you've pawned. I can finally sell that bullshit, and you won't owe me a dime." 

"Maury, I know there's interest," Barry said with a surprised blink, "I owe you a lot. Like, so much." 

"Take the fucking thing, and let me do something nice, okay? You don't need any of that old shit anyway since you're sittin' pretty with Boss Cold." 

"Thank you, Maury," Barry laughed, beaming happily. He grinned shyly, saying, "Okay, there might be one more thing I wanna get back." 

"Are you really that attached to your fuckin' toaster?" Maury snorted flatly. 

"No, my records," Barry replied, "They were my parents, and you know..." 

"Fuck, that's the only shit you ever pawned that might actually be worth anything," Maury cackled. 

Barry gave Maury his best puppy dog impression, batting his eyes and pleading, "Pretty please?" 

"Fuck, okay, just quit makin' that face!" Maury disappeared into the back briefly, bringing out a large paper bag filled with old vinyl records. "Okay. Anything else, your majesty?" 

"No, this is great," Barry replied with a grateful smile, "Thank you, Maury. Look, I gotta get to work, but-" 

"Go on," Maury said gruffly, waving his hand dismissively. "Just keep me posted, okay? Be careful. Don't wanna read about you in the papers." 

"Oh, Iris wouldn't actually write anything-" 

"I'm talkin' about the obits, kid," Maury said seriously. "Please, take care of yourself, okay?" 

"I will," Barry promised, shaking his friend's hand before departing. Jerry was there, waiting patiently to open the limo door for him, Barry giving his thanks before climbing into the back. 

On the ride over to La Belle, he flipped through the records with a big smile. He didn't know if Cold would appreciate the massive amount of AC/DC, but it would be fun to listen to a few of the albums together. 

He shivered a little when he thought about their last encounter involving a record player, blushing when they pulled up to the club. He left the receiver and the records in the limo, thanking Jerry when he got the door again. 

He headed inside, noting that the club was suspiciously vacant. Lisa should be here, he thought, glancing around. He wondered if she was in the office, starting to head up the stairs.

He paused, hearing something. 

Lisa was crying. 

Barry sighed softly, hurrying up to the door, his chest heavy with worry. He didn't want a repeat of last time he had found her in this office, and he had honestly hoped that his friend was feeling better since they talked. 

"Lisa, are you...?" Barry began as he stepped inside, freezing in place and staring dumbly at the unbelievable sight in front of him. 

Lisa was definitely crying, but these were cries of pleasure. She was sprawled out across the desk, her skirt hitched up around her hips. None other than Cisco Ramon was there on his knees between her thighs and clearly hard at work. 

"Barry?" Lisa groaned, lifting up her head to glare at him. She waved at him, snapping frantically, "Get out! We'll be downstairs in a minute!" 

"God! Sorry! Sorry! I didn't see anything! Cisco's head is in the way! Uhm, hey Cisco, good to see you! Okay, bye!" Barry babbled a mile a minute, struggling to get back through the door and slam it closed behind him. 

He hurried downstairs, finding Jerry at the bar and giving him an odd look for being so distressed. Barry shook his head, saying firmly, "Do not go up there." 

Jerry didn't ask for any further detail, chuckling softly to himself. 

"Is it too early for a drink?" Barry asked, giggling bashfully. 

"Never, monsieur," Jerry assured him, quickly whipping up a batch of appletinis. 

"You're amazing, Jerry," Barry said happily, taking a long sip, "How did you know? This is my favorite." 

"It's my job to know," Jerry said mysteriously, winking slyly as he said, "And Mademoiselle Snart told me." 

"Here's to Miss Snart," Barry laughed, holding up his glass in a toast. He finished his drink and had started on a second one when Lisa and Cisco finally came downstairs. 

Cisco's right arm was in a sling, and he looked like he had just survived a tornado. He had the most blissful expression on his face, waving happily at Barry. "Hey, dude!" 

Lisa's lipstick wasn't even smudged, smiling sweetly at Barry and teasing, "Hey, sweetie. Mmmm, sorry about that." 

"Yeah, sorry," Cisco said with a blushing grin, "We were just, you know, uhm, talking, and then the talking... became not talking." 

Barry was so happy for them, gushing to Lisa, "So, I take it you, ahem, told him?" 

"I told him everything," Lisa said with a big smile, batting her eyes at Cisco, "He said I was like Xena, Warrior Princess, taking out all the douchebag trash." 

"As if I wouldn't still freakin' adore this woman for doin' something like that," Cisco said dreamily, "I mean, come on. She's a goddess." 

Lisa giggled, kissing Cisco's cheek sweetly. 

"I take it the, uhm, shoulder is feeling better?" Barry asked smugly. 

"It's getting there," Cisco laughed, wiggling the fingers of his right hand, "No surgery thankfully, just lots of physical therapy. I should still be able to play. We only got a few more days until the big party, gotta get our shit down." 

"It's gonna be a hell of a party," Lisa said with a waggle of her eyebrows. 

"You know, don't you?" Barry accused. "What your brother is planning." 

Lisa smiled innocently, batting her eyes. "Mmm, I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Can't you please tell me?" Barry pleaded, "I really-" 

"Barry," Lisa cut in firmly, reaching out and taking his hand. "Trust in my brother. Everything is going to be okay. Your dad, the Santinis, all of it. It's all going to work out, I promise." 

"And hey, in the meantime," Cisco piped up, smiling brightly. "We got a show to get ready for!" 

Barry gave an obedient salute, cheering, "You got it! Let's do this!" 

Barry and Cisco practiced under Lisa's watchful eye, taking small breaks for Lisa and Cisco to passionately make out and occasionally discuss adjustments to the songs. 

Barry was happy for them, politely turning his head when they got a little too heated. Rehearsal ended early, and he wasn't the least bit surprised. He shook Cisco's hand, teasing, "Try not to overdo it, okay?" 

"I make no promises," Cisco replied sternly, "I am doing to do whatever that woman tells me to do." 

"Well, have fun. And hey, thank you," Barry said, gently pulling his friend in for a hug. "For everything." 

"Hey! Thank you," Cisco gushed, "Lisa told me that you guys had talked, and well... I'll happily get shot any time if it means getting that lady, okay? She's worth, like, getting shot a hundred times." 

Barry couldn't argue with that, watching the two of them hurry back upstairs into the office, giggling and grinning like kids. They were adorable together, and it was only then that Barry realized he hadn't seen Lisa drinking. 

He smiled, happy for his friends. Jerry took him back to the estate, Barry peering out the window as they pulled up. He got a glimpse of one of the patrolling men with his dog when Jerry parked up front. It was so surreal that this place was going to be his home now. 

Cold was grateful for the receiver and delighted by the records. He was more than happy to add them into his collection, Barry loving how their lives were slowly blending together. 

He went to bed that night in Cold's arms again, and even though he woke up alone like so many times before, Barry was content. 

The next few days leading up to the party were strangely calm. Barry rehearsed at the club with Cisco, and he always remembered to knock before entering the office now. Cold took private meetings and made lots of phone calls. He still would say nothing of his plans, soothing Barry's worries each evening before they went to bed. 

Everything was going to be okay, trust me, he would say. Barry was certainly going to try, but he couldn't help but feel a little flicker of panic still fluttering away in his gut. 

Thursday had arrived, and Cold surprised Barry late that evening by taking him back to the hotel they had first stayed at together. He didn't know why they were spending the night there, but Barry felt an odd sense of comfort coming back to this familiar place. He flopped on the bed as soon as they arrived, stretching out with a cheerful grin. 

"Home sweet home," Barry sighed. 

Cold snorted, hanging up a few things in the closet and setting down the small overnight bag he had packed for them. "Missed this, have you?" 

"It's kind of romantic," Barry teased, "This is where we spent our first night together." 

"It's for our protection," Cold said dryly. "We'll be back home tomorrow." 

"Protection from what?" Barry rolled over onto his stomach, tracking Cold's movements with his eyes as he moved around the room. 

Cold didn't answer, replying instead, "I brought that red suit for you. I'd like you to wear that tomorrow at the party." 

"Protection from what, Len?" Barry pressed. 

"I expect that tomorrow morning you'd like to visit your father before rehearsal," Cold continued as if they were having an entirely different conversation. He sat down at the desk as he had all those nights before, leaning back in his chair. 

Barry groaned loudly, mumbling, "Yes, I would. I'd also like for you to tell me what's going on." 

"No," was Cold's simple reply. He had brought his briefcase, pulling out his ledgers, and it gave Barry the oddest feeling of deja vu to watch him put on his glasses and begin to write. 

They had come so far in such a short amount of time, their relationship so intense and passionate now. He could have never imagined this was where they'd end up when he spent the night here for the first time. 

He now knew that man sitting there wasn't just a heartless gangster. He was kind, generous, and fiercely loyal. He could be gentle as well as ruthless, cruel and adoring, and Barry loved him completely. 

Even when he was stubborn. 

Barry knew pushing Cold for an answer was pointless, huffing and rolling over with all intentions of ignoring him for the rest of the evening. 

He couldn't sit still for very long, maybe only a few minutes, and then he suddenly remembered something about the last time they had stayed here, sitting up quickly. 

"Hey, I love breakfast, I really do," Barry said quickly, "But if you order room service tomorrow, I just want pancakes." 

Cold laughed, snorting, "You didn't enjoy your buffet?" 

"Lola, the nice lady who brings the food? Always got freaked out trying to carry everything up here on time because you ordered the whole menu," Barry chuckled, "Why did you do that anyway?" 

"Because I didn't know what you'd like," Cold replied with a small smile, closing the ledgers and standing up to stretch. 

Barry smiled in return, glancing over at the clock. It was a few minutes after midnight now, grinning wide as he sprang up to his feet to pounce Cold as he came around the desk. 

Cold blinked in surprise, but allowed Barry to hug his neck, gently resting his hands on his waist. 

"Happy birthday to you," Barry sang, kissing Cold's cheek. "Happy birthday to you!" He kissed the other. "Happy birthday, dear Len... happy birthday to you!" 

Cold looked faintly amused, teasing, "Are you done?" 

Barry pouted, grinning as he laughed, "Just wait until the show. You're gonna freakin' love what I'm gonna sing for you." 

"As long as it's better than that," Cold snorted dryly. 

"Rude!" Barry scoffed, playfully batting at Cold's shoulder. 

Cold laughed and smiled, a pure and genuine smile that lit up his entire face and made all the years fade away. 

"You're so beautiful," Barry couldn't help but say, feeling Cold tense. 

Cold's upper lip curled, sighing haggardly at the compliment. 

"Why do you always make that face when I tell you that?" Barry asked quietly. 

"Because that's not how I feel," Cold replied thoughtfully, "That's not what people think when they see me, when they see my body. Even you." 

"Len," Barry protested, "I've always thought-" 

"Do you remember the night you met my sister here?" Cold asked suddenly. 

"Yes?" Barry frowned, unsure what Cold was getting at. 

"The look on your face when you saw Lisa's scars for the first time," Cold said softly, "I didn't want you to ever look at me that way." 

"Len," Barry murmured, "I'm so sorry. I don't want you to think... Honestly. Seeing hers, seeing yours. They're not ugly; it's what put them there that's so fucking ugly." 

Cold's lip twitched. 

"When I first saw them, I was so shocked because... because I couldn't imagine the kind of pain that caused scars like that," Barry said, his hands slowly moving to the buttons on Cold's shirt. He began to carefully unfasten each one, watching Cold's face for any signs that he should stop. 

He saw none, but still he hesitated going further, asking quietly, "Can I please touch you? Please? Let me show how beautiful you are." 

Cold's eyes were dark, nodding and gazing longingly over Barry's lips. His hand curled around his neck, squeezing softly as he let him open up his shirt. 

Barry ran his fingers over Cold's marred skin, so grateful to have this privilege. He admired every tear and wound, old and new, leaning forward to kiss each one. He gasped as Cold's fingers suddenly wove into his hair and tugged hard. He felt his insides quivering, blood rushing to fuel the passion building down between his legs. 

Cold smirked; that damned beautiful smirk. He pushed Barry down to his knees, starting to unbuckle his pants as he purred, "Well... it is my birthday, isn't it? Go on and show me, Mr. Allen." 

Barry beamed up at him, licking his lips eagerly as he happily replied "Yes, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap. Only two chapters left??? Aghhhhh!!! The next one is gonna be a freakin' doozy. Sadly no visit from the smut fairy! It's already gonna be such a massive and crazy mess, I had to cut it. You'll just have to use your imagination, but I do promise one last visit in the final chapter!
> 
> Also, also, sorry if the time jump at the end is a little wonky? I had to go ahead and push everything up to the night before the party to keep the story going. Lots of angst and drama ahead, and the mystery of Nora's killer will finally be solved. <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold's birthday ends with a bang.

Barry woke up to the warm and wonderful smell of pancakes, rolling over to see Cold letting Lola into the room. She was nervous as always, quickly getting the tray of food set up from her cart. Cold had only ordered two dishes of pancakes this time, and Lola smiled at Barry appreciatively. 

Cold sent her on her way, sitting down on the edge of the bed to eat. He had already dressed, but his jacket was hanging on the back of the chair at the desk. He reached behind him, grabbing Barry's foot and giving it a playful tug. "Hungry?" 

"Always," Barry laughed, wiggling out from beneath the blankets to join him. He leaned close to steal a kiss, murmuring, "Happy birthday." 

"Thank you," Cold drawled, "Mmm, I have a feeling it's going to be a very exciting birthday." 

"Still not going to tell me what you're planning?" 

"No," Cold said, looking positively smug. 

Barry rolled his eyes, munching on his pancakes with a mournful pout. 

"Jerry will drive you to see your father," Cold said between carefully cut bites, "Afterwards he'll bring you back here to get ready. Detective West will meet us at the club to place the wire before you start the show." 

"I really do wish-" 

Cold silenced him a kiss, letting it linger until Barry was gasping and flushed. "Trust me," he purred gently, lightly touching Barry's neck. 

Barry sighed, flustered as he said, "See, now that's just not fair because when you do that? My brain like, turns off, and then all I can think about is sex." 

"Good," Cold chuckled, kissing Barry's brow before rising up to his feet. "Go see your father. I'll be waiting for you at the club. You need to be there by five o'clock, so keep track of the time. Don't be late." 

"Visiting hours are only until two?" Barry questioned. 

"Are they now?" Cold said mysteriously, winking playfully as he fetched his jacket. "Jerry is waiting for you downstairs. Enjoy yourself, Barry." 

Barry quirked an eyebrow, Cold leaving him to ponder whatever the crap he meant by that. He finished eating and got dressed, riding to elevator down to find Jerry. 

Barry arrived at the prison after a quick limo ride and went to sign in at the front desk as always. He was surprised when the guard led him not to the normal visiting room, but another part of the prison he had never been in before. He was brought to a small room, his jaw dropping when he saw his father sitting in front of him at a small table. "Dad!" 

"Barry?" Henry laughed, quickly getting to his feet and dragging his son into a big hug. "Oh, my God! I should have known it was you! They said my lawyer was coming, wow, I can't believe this!" 

Barry burst into tears, glad the guard had left to give them privacy, openly sobbing into his father's chest. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to give his father a hug. 

Henry cradled his son tight, kissing his forehead and his hair. "Hey, hey, it's okay, slugger. I'm here." 

Barry tried to calm himself down, laughing excitedly, "I'm, I'm just... I can't believe this." 

"I can," Henry chuckled, "I think your new boyfriend has some good friends in the prison." 

Barry blanched, stuttering, "M-my boyfriend?" 

Henry gave him a knowing smirk, teasing, "Didn't take long to hear all about Boss Cold's young, handsome kept boy? Ahem? There was also an unusually high donation made to my commissary account and all of the Rogue family here have been extra friendly." 

Barry smiled nervously, saying weakly, "Uh... surprise?" 

Henry hugged Barry close, shaking his head. "Christ, son," he laughed, "This is why you didn't want to tell me about him last week?" 

"Uhhh... yeah." 

Henry gestured for Barry to sit down with him, but kept an arm around his shoulders. "I can't say I approve exactly," he said in his sternest fatherly voice, "But it seems things are going better than you expected. So, tell me, son. Are you happy?" 

"I am," Barry gushed, "There is so much more to him than just being a crook, you'll see. He is so kind, and he's so good to me. I mean, hell, arranging this? So, we can actually really see each other?" 

"No more inch of glass between us," Henry agreed with a warm smile. "I definitely appreciate it. Everything he has done has made my life here much easier. And you do seem very happy, son. I noticed the new threads, guessin' those are from him?" 

"He's been taking great care of me," Barry said, eager to give his father a good impression of Cold. 

"I'm allowed to be cautious," Henry said with a smirk. "I am still your father." 

"You know, you're actually taking this really well," Barry said skeptically. 

"Barry?" Henry drawled, "I've been in prison for almost twenty years with all kinds of people. Being a criminal... is complicated. People aren't always black and white, especially when they have a record." 

"Don't worry," Barry promised, "You'll be able to decide for yourself soon." 

"Oh, will I?" Henry laughed. "You and your gangster boyfriend gonna bust me out of here? Prison break, eh?" 

"Not exactly," Barry replied, "But you see, Cold thinks he knows who killed Mom." 

Henry's face dropped, blinking slowly. He closed his eyes firmly, asking as calmly as he could, "Does he now?" 

"Yes," Barry confirmed, "Joe lied about the case because the Santinis threatened Iris. He hid evidence, like, it's... it's crazy." 

"Tell me about it, son," Henry said with a small smile. "We got some time." 

"Yeah, yeah, I guess we do," Barry said with a big smile. They had the whole afternoon together, and Barry spent the next few hours catching Henry up on all the incredible adventures he'd been having with Cold. 

He tried to make sure he only told stories that highlighted his boyfriend's kindness and not the darker side of him. 

Letting Lisa take him shopping? Good. 

Cutting off Thawne's finger? Bad. 

Through it all, Henry was cheerful though he was quiet. He seemed to be reserving judgment, and for that Barry was grateful. When the discussion finally shifted back to the case of his mother's murder and Joe's treachery, he watched all the joy bleed right out from his father's face. 

His father aged decades in moments, hanging his head. 

"It's okay, Dad," Barry insisted, hugging him close, "We're going to get you out of here. Joe is in a corner, he has to help us or Cold will make sure he's right in here with you." 

"And to think," Henry said quietly, "All of this time, Joe's probably been terrified for Iris." 

"What?" 

"All these years, probably still afraid the Santinis would one day come after him and tie up loose ends," Henry went on, "That they might try to hurt his daughter. No wonder he sent her so far away for college. He wanted her to be safe." 

Barry frowned. He had never thought about that. "That still doesn't make it right, that. That phone call-" 

"Son, I'm not saying what Joe did was right," Henry soothed, "Not at all. I'm angry, I am deeply angry and hurt that Joe did something like that. But." He held up his hand. "As a father that would do anything for their child and let the world burn to save them? I understand." 

Barry was humbled by his father's kind heart, smiling softly. His shoulders sagged, murmuring, "I guess." 

"Hey, if you ever have kids, you'll understand," Henry chuckled warmly, "Now, I'm not saying that me and Joe are gonna go have a cup of coffee if Cold can actually get me out of here. I'm more likely to punch him right in the mouth. But, hey, I get it." 

"I love you, Dad," Barry sighed, giving him another hug. He couldn't get enough of them. "You are too good for this world." 

"Love you, too," Henry replied, clapping his hand on his back. "And you know, not that I haven't been having a great time, but uh, what time did you need to be gettin' ready?" 

"Uh, I gotta be at the club by 5:00?" Barry looked around for a clock, squeaking when he saw it was three thirty. "Holy crap! We've been talking for like four hours!" 

"Good conversation makes the time fly by?" Henry laughed, squeezing Barry's shoulder. "Be sure to tell your boyfriend thank you for me. Letting us visit like this, no time limit? Definitely took some string pulling." 

"He can be very persuasive," Barry said with a blushing smile. He stood up, hugging his father tightly. "God, this feels so good. I've missed you so damn much, Dad." 

"I've missed you, too, slugger," Henry replied, kissing his hair lovingly. "I love you. So very much. I'm proud of you, always have been." 

"I'll get you out as soon as I can," Barry promised, squeezing tight. 

"Love you," Henry said with a sad smile, finally letting him go and knocking on the door to let the guards know they were ready. 

"Love you, too," Barry replied, beaming happily when the guard came to lead him out. He didn't understand why his father seemed upset, this day had been fantastic. Maybe he just didn't want to get his hopes up about being freed, but Barry was absolutely floating. He was so happy, wishing he could bottle up this feeling and hang onto it forever. 

Barry definitely had some ideas to show Cold just how grateful he was, but first he had to get ready for the big party. 

He found Jerry snoozing in the driver's seat of the limo, lightly tapping the glass and waving. 

Jerry stirred, sleepily rolling down the with a gentle smile. "Good visit, monsieur?" 

"Awesome visit," Barry gushed, "A little too awesome because now I think we might be running a little tiny bit late." 

Jerry sat up immediately, leaning over and opening the passenger side door, saying sternly, "Not on my watch, monsieur. Get in and strap in." 

Barry obeyed, barely clicking his seatbelt into place before Jerry took off, tires squealing. Barry almost puked once or twice, and he was pretty certain he had whiplash when they pulled in front of the hotel. 

"Run like the wind, monsieur!" Jerry ordered, shooing for Barry to get out of the limo. 

Barry had never run so fast in his life, bolting to the elevator and panting on the ride up. He hurried into the hotel room, stripping as he stumbled to the closet to grab the red suit he knew Cold liked so much. He was still buttoning his shirt when he left, trying the elevator and pounding at the button impatiently. 

He couldn't wait any longer, groaning as he opted to take the stairs. He skipped down them two at a time, panting by the time he stumbled back into the passenger seat beside Jerry. He grinned breathlessly, wheezing, "Okay! Ready!" 

He must have looked a fright, because Jerry stared at him in bewilderment, saying slowly, "Okay, we will fix you at the club." 

Jerry drove them over at less whiplash inducing speeds, though the tires complained a bit when he parked in front of the club. He ran around to intercept Barry as he climbed out, instructing him to hold still. 

Barry froze as Jerry expertly adjusted his shirt and jacket, fixing his tie and hair. He gave him an approving nod, saying with a satisfied smile, "Ah, la perfection. Now go!" 

"Thank you," Barry laughed, "Thank you so much! You're really the best, Jerry!" 

"Eh, I know," Jerry sighed with a casual shrug as he followed Barry inside. "It's a burden I have to bare." 

The club was freshly cleaned and there were huge arrangements of calla lillies on every table. Lisa was directing staff everywhere, barking orders like a drill sergeant. 

"Make sure all of those flowers are perfect! I want the front tables pushed together, the whole family is sitting there!" Lisa was snapping, "Please, pretty please make sure those bottles of champagne are chilled and ready to go or I will scream!" 

"Hey, Lisa," Barry said shyly. 

Lisa whirled around to face him, glancing at her watch, grinning as she said, "Ah! Right on time!" 

"Is, uh, Cold here yet?" Barry asked nervously. 

"In the office with, ahem, Detective West," she replied, dropping her voice down to imitate her brother's tone when she said Joe's name. "Go on up, and when they're done with you? Come see me." 

Barry gave a quick salute, bouncing up the stairs to the office. Out of habit now, he knocked. 

"Come in," came Cold's familiar drawl. 

Barry stepped inside, finding Cold seated at the desk with Joe standing in front of him, arms crossed and glaring. 

"Hey," Barry squeaked. 

The tension was heavy and palpable. 

"It's time," Cold said briskly, all business as he nodded at Joe. 

Joe approached, at least saying a quick hello before he held out a small black disc. "This is it," he said, "We'll just tuck this in your jacket pocket, okay? I'll be able to hear everything in about twenty minutes, so you know, keep it clean." 

"R-right," Barry stammered, fidgeting as Joe fixed the device inside of his inner jacket pocket. It didn't look like much despite its importance. 

"I don't suggest listening in for the next ten minutes or so," Cold taunted, "Unless you'd like to hear a private performance from Barry, he really has quite a voice..." 

Joe stared Cold down while Barry flushed, saying flatly, "I'll be waiting for you. Good luck. To both of you." 

"Can't wait," Cold drawled, fixing Joe with a nasty smile. He watched him leave the office without another word, visibly relieved as he rose up to properly greet Barry. 

Barry smiled as Cold pulled him close for a tender kiss, his entire body becoming pudding in his strong embrace. "Mmm. Hi." 

"Hi," Cold chuckled, his thumb tracing along Barry's jaw. "I trust you had a good visit with your father?" 

"Amazing, thank you," Barry replied earnestly, "It was an awesome surprise. We had a really good time. He was so happy, and told me to tell you thank you, too. Thank you so freakin' much for setting that up." 

Cold shrugged indifferently, saying, "It was nothing." 

Barry smirked, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to Cold's cheek. "Seriously, it meant a lot to me. It was so sweet. Thank you." 

For a brief moment, Barry could have believed he saw Cold blushing. The gangster smirked, running his fingers through Barry's hair as he said, "Almost showtime." 

"What do I need to do?" Barry asked eagerly. He was wearing a wire now, stupidly excited as he was suddenly starring in his very crime drama. 

"All I need you to do is perform beautifully, wear this ring, and meet me in the dressing room immediately afterwards," Cold said firmly as he pulled out the Santini ring from his pocket. 

"That's it?" 

"That's it," Cold confirmed, smirking at Barry's pout as he slid the ring onto his finger. "Don't look so disappointed." 

"Fine," Barry lamented, "I guess I need to go get prepared? Throw some things? Be a diva?" 

"If you'd like," Cold chuckled, giving him another kiss. "Mmm, let's go." 

Cold led him back downstairs to Lisa who barked some more and dragged Barry backstage to go over the set list one more time. After that, it was really a game of trying to stay out of the way as everyone continued to prepare for the big night. 

The club finally opened and the band began playing as guests filtered in. Barry hadn't seen Cisco yet, peeking out from behind the curtains to see if anything interesting was going on. 

There were four large tables all pushed together right at the front of the stage, the Rogues occupying almost every seat with Cold sitting in the middle. 

He couldn't quite make out what was happening at the front of the club, but as far as he could tell everyone was being thoroughly searched. A new group of suited men had appeared, slick and predatory, their eyes stalking across every inch of the room. Mick guided them in, seating them at a bunch of tables to the left of the Rogues. 

"Santinis," Cisco's voice suddenly hissed beside Barry making him jump. 

"Shit! Be easy, man!" Barry laughed nervously. "Where have you been? Wait, is that lipstick on your neck?" 

"Probably," Cisco replied with a blushing smile, "Lisa needed to uh, relax for a few minutes." 

"Say no more," Barry chuckled, peeking back out to the audience. "Seriously, those guys there. Those are the Santinis?" 

"Yup," Cisco said warily, "The tall one in the blue? That's Matteo Santini. And oh, look who's with hanging out with them." 

A new figure had appeared, sitting proudly with the Santinis. 

Eobard Thawne. 

"That freakin' traitor. He really is working with the Santinis! What are they freakin' doing here?" Barry wondered out loud. 

"Ha, Cold invited them!" 

"Wh-what? Why!" 

"I am not about to try and understand the inner workings of your man's brain," Cisco said, "That's just what Lisa told me." 

"The crap, man." 

"Worry about it later," Cisco soothed, gently patting Barry's shoulder. "You ready for the show?" 

"Ready," Barry replied with a quick nod. 

Cisco took his place on stage, and Barry began to walk out towards the microphone with a sly smile. He didn't worry about gangsters or murderers; when he was on stage, all he has focus on was the performance, the music, the songs. 

Barry took a cleansing breath, smiling lovingly at Cold down in front of the stage as applause lightly erupted around the room. He smiled and as soon as Cisco hit his cue, Barry began singing softly, "Someday when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight..." 

He sang adoringly, his body moving with the music as he guided the band through Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight." They had agreed it was easier to use some songs they had already performed previously, following that up with another riveting rendition of Halsey's "Hold Me Down". 

Cold was just as captivated as before, only looking away once when Mick came to whisper something in his ear. He glanced over at the Santinis and nodded, his eyes snapping back to Barry on stage in a heart beat. 

Next was one that Barry was a little nervous about, Patsy Cline's "Crazy". He tried to capture the same sorrow and beauty as he had heard when Suzanne had sang it, pouring his very essence in each word. Cisco joined him on the piano here and there, but for almost all of the song it was only Barry's voice that rang out through the club, clear as a bell and strikingly haunting. 

He had barely finished the last few words before there was an adoring round of applause, offering the audience and Cold a blushing smile. 

Cold's face was nearly unreadable, but Lisa had leaned close and pressed a comforting kiss to his cheek. He casually wiped his eyes, gently brushing his sister aside with a quick smile. 

Barry felt proud for having moved his icy boyfriend so, grateful that the last song was a bit more cheeky and uplifting. He heard Cisco's nimble fingers stroking the keys, quickly saying into the microphone, "This song is for a very special birthday boy... hope you like it." 

Cold blinked at the direct dedication, all the Rogues exploding into laughter and cheering for their leader as the band all joined in as the song began. 

"I need a gangster," Barry purred playfully, sultry and passionate, "To love me better than all the others do. To always forgive me, ride or die with me." He took a deep breath, belting out, "That's just what gangsters do!" 

Cold actually looked embarrassed, pressing a hand to his forehead and glancing up at Mick and Lisa. Mick was cheering and she was up on her feet, whistling as Barry held the note, Cisco banging away on the piano. James was hollering away, and Axel was pounding the table doing his own drums as Barry went on. 

"I'm fucked up," Barry drawled seductively, snatching at his bow tie and pulling it loose as he sang,"I'm black and blue." He slid his hand down his body, smiling suggestively as he went on, "I'm built for... all the abuse.

"I got secrets, that nobody, nobody knows." He took a breath, his voice low and growling as he purred, "I'm good on... _that pussy shit_." He ran his tongue lewdly over his lips. "I don't want what I can get. I want someone with secrets that nobody, nobody, nobody knows." 

Cold's eyes never left Barry's, whatever awkwardness he felt over such a tongue-in-cheek choice consumed by an obvious hunger. 

"I need a gangster," Barry sang, carrying the song back into the second chorus, both of his hands cradling the microphone as he continued to croon, "To love me better than all the others do. To always forgive me, ride or die with me... that's just what gangsters do!" 

Barry dropped his voice down to a seductive whisper, singing softly, "My freakness is on the loose, and running..." He winked playfully at Cold. "All over you. Please take me to places that nobody, that nobody, body knows!" 

Cisco's fingers were flying, a saxophone was blaring away as the band dove into a thunderous crescendo, Barry's voice leading them through it. 

"You got me hooked up on the feeling!" Barry sang passionately, his hand clutching at his chest, "You got me hanging from the ceiling! Got me up so high I'm barely breathing! So don't let me, don't let me, don't let me, don't let me _go_!" 

Lisa whistled and cheered, all the Rogues were on their feet hollering. Cold hadn't moved, still seated, but he was leaned forward across the table, completely entranced. 

The music rose in a thunderous wave, Barry giving the song everything he had as he clung to the microphone like it was a lover, crooning the next chorus adoringly to Cold, "I need a gangster! To love me better, than all the others do. To always forgive me, ride or die with me. That's just what gangsters do!" 

The music softened, Barry's voice dropping to a sexy growl as he drawled, "I'm fucked up, I'm black and blue, and running..." His voice dropped even lower, a bedroom whisper as he pointed right at Cold and sang,"...all over you!" 

The music picked up again as Barry began belting out the final chorus, banging his head and losing himself to the words, singing passionately, "I need a gangster! To love me better, than all the others do. To always forgive me, ride or die with me. That's just what gangsters do...!" 

Barry held the final note to deafening applause, grinning as he saw Cold rising to his feet to clap for him. He was smiling so warmly, prouder than Barry had ever seen him. 

Barry blew him kisses, taking a bow. He stepped back behind the curtains as they fell, exhaling sharply. He glanced curiously down at the little wire in his pocket, hoping it hadn't been disturbed during his performance. 

Cisco came over to shake his hand, cheering, "Hell of a show, man!" 

"Hey, you, too!" Barry laughed, "Thanks so much!" He clapped Cisco on the back, making sure to avoid his injured shoulder, telling him, "I'll see you in a bit! I'm gonna take a breather!" 

"Sure thing, man!" 

Barry headed back to his dressing room as Cold had asked him to do, plopping down at the vanity with a big smile. He could almost forget that his lover's enemies were here, including his mother's potential murderer, or that there were cops crawling around somewhere outside. 

While he sang, it was just him and Cold. It had been so beautiful. 

Reality wasn't quite as nice. 

Barry heard a knock at the door, calling out politely, "Come in!" 

It was Cold. "You were magnificent," he purred as he walked in, a giant bouquet of red roses in his arms. 

"Oh, my Gosh," Barry gushed, quickly standing up to intercept the flowers. He took them graciously, kissing Cold with a big smile. 

Cold held his neck, deepening the kiss for a long moment. "Mmm. Absolutely spectacular. Singing "Gangsta" to a gangster? Cute pick." 

"Thank you," Barry gushed, momentarily forgetting all about the world outside of this room. He held the beautiful flowers close, lost in Cold's passionate kiss. He almost didn't notice the door opening again, blinking when he heard an unfamiliar clicking sound. 

He pulled back from Cold, gasping when saw Eobard Thawne standing there with a gun pointed right at them. The sound had been the hammer pulling back, Thawne leering at them both. 

"How did he get a gun in here," Barry hissed, clinging to Cold fearfully. "I saw everyone being searched!" 

"Mmm, I have my ways. Now, I'll be taking that ring, thank you," Thawne said sternly, smiling wide. 

Cold was eerily calm, facing Thawne and pushing Barry behind him, cooly replying, "You mean the ring you took from Louis Santini after you killed him?" 

"That would be the one," Thawne snorted. "Always were a clever one, Cold. I've been looking for my little trophy for quite some time, and I'd like to finally have it back, please." 

Barry's eyes widened at the confession as pieces began to fall into place, pushing his way in front of Cold as he started to shout, "You! It was you! You killed my mother!" 

Cold jerked him back, but Thawne's aim was now focused on Barry. 

"All she had to do was give me the ring," Thawne sighed, his lip curling in annoyance. "But then she just wouldn't stop fuckin' screaming." 

Barry thought he might throw up, his vision starting to get hazy as the panic began to set in. He fought it with all of his strength, determined to keep pushing. He knew Joe was listening in, and whoever else had that extra receiver, snapping defiantly, "You killed the Don, and then my mother? But why! Why kill her? She didn't do anything wrong!" 

"Oh, yes, she did," Thawne hissed, "She recognized the ring when I brought it to the fuckin' jewelry shop to get it resized. She knew it was Don Santini's. Apparently she was the one who did the engraving, isn't that fun? She threatened to call the cops, so, I left." 

"But you went back," Barry said slowly, more of the pieces clicking together. "You're the one that broke in, looking for the ring." That had to be the one missing item from the night of the robbery, it had to be, but it was long gone when Thawne went looking for it. "Mom knew you'd come back for it, so she took it." 

"Good thing her home address was on file at the store," Thawne said with a roll of his eyes. "Too easy to find her. Shame about your daddy and the cops showing up. Didn't have a chance to get the ring... or you."

"Why kill her over a fucking piece of jewelry?" Barry demanded passionately. He had waited a lifetime for this confrontation, for answers, tears racing down his cheeks as he screamed, "She was a beautiful and kind woman, a mother, a wife! Why! Why did you do it!" 

"It's not just a ring, you fucking simpleton," Thawne scoffed, "It's a symbol. Why do you think I was going to get it resized? I was going to fucking wear it and rub it all in their fucking faces." 

Barry couldn't stop his tears, his mouth twisting up in anguish. The very ring on his finger was what had cost his mother her life. She had tried to do the right thing, and died for it. 

She had to have realized that Thawne had no good reason to have that particular ring, and she had called Joe to report her suspicions. 

She'd had no idea that Thawne was going to show up at their door. She had no clue that Barry would see a yellow blazer and think it was his father's raincoat. Fuck. Fuck all of it. 

That tiny chunk of metal and rock was what stole his mother away from him. 

Barry wanted to throw it away, destroy it, melt it away into nothing. Shove it down Thawne's throat and watch him choke on it. 

No, had to let him keep talking. Joe was listening. They had to keep Thawne talking no matter what. This had to be part of Cold's plan. It just had to be. This is what would free his father. 

"I'd spent years serving the Italians and kissing that fucking thing," Thawne was still ranting away, "It was finally going to be mine, all fucking mine, along with the kingdom of Central City. And it will be, now hand it-" 

"You killed the Don to start the war," Barry snapped in realization. Even as upset as he was, he knew he needed more. He had to keep going. "You knew his sons would fight over who was going to lead! Just like now, you were trying to start a war between the Rogues and the Santinis-" 

"Shut up, fuckin' Scooby Doo," Thawne snarled. "You think you're so clever putting all of this together! Ha! But the joke's on you! Both of you! Especially you, Cold, you fucking cock gobbling prick." 

"Oh, that really hurts my feelings coming from a nine fingered cunt," Cold said smoothly. 

"Fuck you," Thawne spat, leveling the gun at Cold, "I've spent months planning this. I have the Santinis all behind me... they're eating out of the palm of my hand. Who do you think gave me the gun? Huh?" 

"The Santinis who don't know you killed their father yet," Barry mumbled, clinging to Cold's arm. 

"You know," Thawne said with a languid sigh as his eyes hunted over every inch of Barry's body, "I had so much fun sticking it to your mom all those years ago... I would love to know what it would be like to stick a few things in you. Ruin that pretty face..." 

Cold lunged forward, the barrel of the gun hitting his chest as he bared his teeth, snarling, "You will not fucking touch him." 

"Tough talk coming from a dead man," Thawne sneered, grinning wildly. "I have been waiting for this... for so long." 

"Ungrateful waste of flesh," Cold drawled in disgust, his icy eyes sparkling with his fury. "I was good to you, I took you in, I took care of you. I made you a Rogue." 

"You treated me like a fucking child!" Thawne roared back, slamming the gun against Cold's chest. "I'm fucking done with you! I'm fucking done with your condescending bullshit! I'm fucking smarter than you, and I've finally fucking won!" 

"Well," Cold drawled calmly, "I guess that means you're out. And when you're out, you're out...." He raised his hand, index and thumb in a mockery of a gun aimed right at Thawne's head. He smiled softly and whispered, "Bang." 

Thawne looked confused and angry, growling, "Rot in Hell, Snart." 

"You first," Snart purred defiantly. 

Thawne pulled the trigger. 

Barry's chest violently convulsed, screaming, "No!" 

Nothing happened. 

The gun didn't fire. Thawne's eyes bugged out of his head, Barry thought he was going to faint, and Cold grinned. 

Barry's knees turned into jelly, collapsing against the vanity as Cold lunged forward to grab the gun. He cracked the weapon against Thawne's face, watching with unbridled satisfaction as he crumpled to the floor. 

"The gun..." Barry gasped, trembling all over. 

"Funny thing about guns," Cold said, smirking smugly as he pressed the heel of his shoe against Thawne's throat. "If you want to kill someone..." He pulled out the clip, grinning slyly. It was empty. "They require ammunition." 

Thawne's nose was bleeding, gurgling and glaring up at Cold as he dropped the gun down beside him, trying push his foot away to no avail. "How! Fucking how!" 

The door of the dressing room opened suddenly, and in walked Matteo Santini. He had the receiver from Maury's pawn shop in one hand, a gun in the other. 

Barry was pretty sure that one was loaded. 

"Ring," Cold said, reaching back to Barry. 

Barry's hands were shaking too badly, cursing, "Fuck." 

Cold gently reached for Barry, taking his hand and carefully working the ring off his trembling fingers while grinding his foot down on Thawne's neck. 

"Matteo," Thawne gasped, "I didn't-" 

"Shut up, Thawne," Matteo snapped, "I heard everything." 

Cold offered the ring out to him, smirking down at Thawne. "Tough break." 

Matteo handed Cold back the receiver and took the ring, smiling at it adoringly. It was obvious that it meant a lot to him. He nodded at Cold, saying, "Thank you for this." He looked down at Thawne in disgust, laughing, "You're such an arrogant fool. Never even thought about checking the gun I gave you to make sure it was loaded." 

Cold took his foot off of Thawne's throat, putting the receiver into his pocket. He pulled Barry into his arms, a firm hand at his neck and at the small of his back. 

"This is not fucking over!" Thawne roared, his eyes wild and glaring. "Matteo, please, listen to me-" 

"No more," Matteo cut him off. "Not another word from that poisoned tongue of yours. This is for my father, you fucking piece of shit." He aimed his gun. 

Barry couldn't tear his eyes away, watching Matteo aim right for Thawne's face. 

Cold grabbed Barry close, pressing his face against his chest, hissing quickly, "Don't look." 

Barry closed his eyes. 

Matteo fired, the shot ringing in Barry's ears. He couldn't hear, everything was muddled and weird. The gun kept firing, and Cold was pulling Barry out of the dressing room, dragging him away. 

Barry never looked back, he never saw Thawne's body. He didn't need to. Cold was leading him down the narrow hallway that exited out the back of club. 

Barry's legs were weak, leaning heavily against Cold. He guided him through the door, nearly running right into Joe and several CCPD squad cars. He started crying, the adrenaline making every inch of his body shake. 

It was over. 

Thawne was dead. 

"Got everything you need?" Cold asked briskly, eyes locking with Joe's. 

Joe looked as if he had seen a ghost, but nodded. He carefully removed the wire from Barry's jacket, saying, "We heard it all. We'll contact the DA tonight. Henry Allen is an innocent man, and we'll get him out as soon as we can. I'll make sure the courts put a rush on it." 

Barry sobbed harder, clinging to Cold tightly. His father was going to be free. After seventeen years, his father was finally going to be free. 

"And Matteo Santini?" Cold went on. 

Joe turned to the officers behind him, all in full battle gear, giving them a thumb's up. They started rushing the back door, Joe saying, "About to be arrested for the murder of Eobard Thawne. I don't suppose you're going to explain how Matteo happened to hear everything?" 

Cold shrugged, innocently replying, "Perhaps he had his ear pressed against the door." He turned his head slightly when he heard a distant barrage of gunfire. He smirked, saying knowingly, "Guess we'll never know." 

There was static on Joe's radio, a tinny voice whispering, "Target was hostile and armed, team leader. Target is down, securing the area." 

"Roger," Joe radioed back. 

Barry kept his teeth together, but his eyes were wide with shock. He was completely amazed. He had known Cold was smart, but this was incredible. 

Cold had planned all of this. Every last step. 

Thawne was dead, Matteo was dead, and they had all of the evidence to free his father from prison. 

"If you'll excuse us, detective," Cold purred as he cradled Barry close, "I'd like to finish celebrating my birthday." 

Joe glanced at the two of them warily, nodding. "I'll be in touch." He looked at Barry, his expression grim as he said softly, "Barry..." He was clearly struggling to find the right words. 

Barry smiled through his tears, saying, "It's okay, Joe... just... help my Dad, okay?" 

"I will," Joe replied sternly, "I swear it." 

Barry stepped forward, taking a deep breath and hugging Joe tightly. He remembered everything he and Henry had talked about today, and he knew Joe had suffered so much, too. He felt Joe's arms awkwardly come around him before squeezing tight and giving him a proper hug, sighing, "Thank you, Joe." 

"Thank you, Barry," Joe said softly, his tone wrecked and unsteady. "I'm... I'm so sorry." 

"I forgive you," Barry said immediately, hugging him hard. He beamed up at him, smiling brightly and repeating, "It's okay, I forgive you." 

Up the alley came a very familiar limo, Cold giving Barry a small nudge. "Have a good night, detective," Cold said, leading Barry away from Joe and towards the car, "Try not to make a mess when you raid the rest of my club." 

Cold swept Barry into the back of the limo, holding him close. He sacrificed part of his tender hold to pick up the phone, quickly instructing, "Everything is fine. Take us home, Jerry. Merci." 

"This was your plan," Barry said quietly, wiping his face, "You set Matteo up... you knew Thawne was the murderer. But that name, Harrison Wells..." 

"Harrison Wells is Eobard Thawne," Cold explained, kissing Barry's forehead, "An alias." 

"Aren't the Santinis going to be mad you got Matteo killed?" 

"Why? Thawne was obviously working with the police and betrayed us all. He was the one wearing the wire," Cold said flatly. 

"He wasn't... ohhhh." 

"Now you're catching on," Cold chuckled. 

"How could you be sure Matteo would give him an unloaded gun?" Barry asked quietly. "What if he tried to betray you?" 

"Mick gave Matteo the guns," Cold snorted, "The first one, the unloaded one, he put in his jacket when he searched him. The second one, the one that had ammo, Mick didn't give to him until after I came backstage to find you." 

"You really thought of everything," Barry said with a strained smile. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you," Cold said, his voice taking on a soothing tone. "I couldn't let Thawne know what I was planning. He could not suspect that it was a trap. I needed your response to be real." 

Barry pouted at all the deception, but he nodded, saying quietly, "It's all really over now?" 

"Yes," Cold promised, kissing his forehead sweetly. 

"And my Dad is really getting out," Barry confirmed. 

"Yes." 

"Thank you," Barry sighed adoringly, "Thank you for everything. I'm... I think I'm in shock. I just can't believe it. This is real. This is really happening."

"Mmm, believe it," Cold purred, smiling slyly. 

Barry closed his eyes, letting himself relax against Cold. His heart was full, he was exhausted, and he had never been happier. He reached for Cold's hand, lacing their fingers together. 

Cold gave Barry's hand a gentle squeeze, leaning his cheek against his hair. 

"I love you," Barry whispered softly. 

Cold tilted his head, his icy eyes flickering over Barry's face as he muddled those words over thoughtfully. He didn't say anything, but he smiled, warm and sweet. He leaned in to kiss Barry tenderly, holding him close. 

Barry melted against Cold, sighing happily. "You know... it's still technically your birthday," he mumbled over Cold's lips, "Just saying." 

"Mmm," Cold mused, "I suppose there is one last present I'd love to open up..." 

"I'm all yours," Barry gushed, smiling brightly. 

"And this," Cold said softly, guiding Barry's hand to his chest, over his heart, "This is yours, Barry Allen." 

Barry was already so emotionally compromised that Cold's unexpected declaration was almost enough to break him. He was tearful in moments, kissing Cold frantically, hands roaming as he gasped, "I'll fucking take it." 

Cold easily took control of the kiss, forcing Barry to slow down, to take their time. He kissed him sweetly, passionately, purring contently, "Mmm, thought you might be interested. Pretty fair trade." 

Barry actually laughed, grinning from ear to ear as he teased, "Sounds like a hell of a deal to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP I LOST CONTROL OF THIS. I didn't want to cut anything (still did, like one tiny thing), but OMG. It's massive and ridiculous, but I do hope you all enjoy it. Thank you so much for sticking with me and reading my nonsense! One more chapter to go!
> 
> Also, also. I do want to officially announce that I will be continuing this AU with a series of randomly updated oneshots. I had sooo many ideas, and I couldn't get everything into just twenty five chapters. So, even though this story is almost over, fear not! There will be more gangster goodness to come! <3
> 
> Next up, happy and smutty ending! <3 <3 <3


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And happily ever after. <3

"Are you ready, Mr. Allen?" Cold asked quietly, his hands tracing over the ropes that held Barry in place. 

"Yes, sir," Barry whimpered, already eager and desperate. 

Cold had soft ropes tying Barry's hands behind his back, thoughtful twists that held his wrists together just above his ass. The ropes looped between his legs, around his cock and balls, hugging his thighs. They were then woven down into a special bar that kept his knees firmly apart. 

To open a present, it first had to be unwrapped Cold had told him firmly. 

When they first arrived back at the estate, all of the Rogues were waiting for them to celebrate. Being in on the plan had allowed them all to escape the police's raid on the club totally unscathed. 

Lisa had brought Cisco, the pair looking rather cozy snuggled up on a sofa, earning themselves a nasty glare from Cold. Lisa didn't look bothered, though Cisco was clearly nauseous. 

Perhaps Cold was in a good mood from their victory because he didn't say a word about it. He didn't even say anything about Nimbus and Mardon being tangled up by the bar, torn between shoving each other or kissing, much less distracting than the shocking sight of Axel and Hartley passionately making out on one of the other sofas. 

Mick had his cell phone out, mumbling something about giving the Doc a call and left with a determined smile on his face. 

James had been watching everyone with a longing grin, tipping a drink back and laughing, "Ahh... young love." 

Cold finally had seen enough when Axel started biting Hartley's neck and threw his glasses behind the sofa. He left James to his voyeuristic intentions and whisked Barry away to their bedroom, stripping him down and worshipping every inch of him as he looped all the ropes around his body. Every knot was tied with a kiss, fingers lingering to caress every bit of skin as he went. 

Barry was now currently posed on the edge of the bed, Cold admiring his handiwork with a smug chuckle. 

Barry bowed his head, blushing fiercely as he felt the tip of Cold's finger slide between his cheeks. 

"You do look so lovely like this," Cold praised, "A perfect little present just for me..." He spread Barry's cheeks, massaging around his hole with his thumb. 

Barry's hands wiggled against the ropes, wishing Cold would give him more, give him something. His cock was stiffening quickly, the rope suddenly feeling tighter and he groaned softly. 

"Not too much?" Cold asked, sliding a hand around to check the fit of the rope. 

"Good, sir," Barry replied quickly. 

Cold gave him a teasing stroke as a reward, going back to playing around the edge of his hole. 

Barry had lost all sense of time as Cold teased him, gasping as he finally pressed the tip of his finger inside. Cold held it there for a breath, but pulled away again. 

Barry pouted, his cock twitching in protest. 

Cold was reaching into the bedside table, humming lightly to himself. 

Barry heard the click of a lube bottle, sighing happily. He didn't care what Cold put it in him right now, just as long as it was _something_. 

But Cold wasn't done torturing him, simply swirling the lubricant around between his cheeks and still not penetrating him. 

Barry whined, his hips pushing back, whimpering, "Please." 

"No," came Cold's firm reply, his palm cracking across the tender flesh of Barry's ass. "You should be happy that I'm touching you at all. Maybe I should just leave you like this, watch you squirm for a little while." 

"Please, sir," Barry gasped, his cheek left stinging from the rough sparking, "I promise... I'll be good." 

"We'll see," Cold snorted, his fingers returning to spread Barry's cheeks wide, his thumbs digging and massaging at his taint and around his hole. 

Barry bowed his head down in submission, letting himself collapse against the bed with his ass still up in the air. 

"There..." Cold purred. "Just like that... Yes, be good for me." 

"Yes, sir," he whimpered, the ropes still tugging all over, wishing Cold would give him more. 

Like an answer to his prayers, Cold's fingers began to slide inside of him. Gentle at first, but then rougher, deeper until Barry was crying out from the stimulation. 

His nails dug into his palms, grunting when he felt Cold pressing in a third to make him moan louder. 

"Look at you," Cold praised as he opened Barry up, watching him twitch, "Your little hole is so hungry, hmm?" 

Barry clenched himself down around Cold's fingers, whispering brokenly, "Yes, sir... god... I want more..." 

"Tell me what you need, Mr. Allen," Cold said calmly, spreading his fingers and looking down at his work. 

"Your cock, sir," Barry answered eagerly. 

"Mmm, I don't know if you deserve that yet," Cold replied, leaning down and spitting lewdly on Barry's hole. His fingers swirled around in his own saliva before plunging back inside Barry. 

Barry whimpered, groaning when Cold's fingers twisted and pressed against his prostate, forcing him to shudder all over. "I'll be good, so good," he swore, wiggling against the rope. 

It was driving him crazy not being able to touch, completely at Cold's mercy. He was desperate and wrecked, trying to be good, but loving every second of the beautiful torture. The thrill of being denied made every sensation even hotter, gasping when Cold's fingers plunged so deep he swore he was trying to fit his whole hand inside. 

The feeling was so intense that Barry's head came up off the bed, his hands curling into fists as he cried out, "Fuck!" 

"There," Cold soothed, pressing his fingers even harder, forcing Barry to squirm and sob, praising, "Such a good boy..." 

Barry gritted his teeth and took it all, his toes even curling as he writhed, panting hard. 

Cold finally released him from the intense pressure, withdrawing his hand and leaning down to softly kiss his cheeks. 

Barry's head flopped back down against the mattress, whining at the sudden contrast of such sweet affections. He smiled when he felt Cold's tongue pressing into his stretched hole, grateful for the warm and slippery feeling working around his tender flesh. 

"Mmmph, God, yes," Barry moaned, having to call on every drop of of patience not to tilt his hips back and fuck himself on Cold's probing tongue. 

Cold was making love with his mouth; long, passionate licks punctuated by wet kisses and deep thrusts, all designed to make Barry fall to pieces. 

Barry's cock was so hard he could feel his pulse pounding away at the base of his shaft and in his balls, smothering his face against the sheets as he gave himself over to every wonderful swipe of Cold's nimble tongue. 

He thought he could almost come from this, the pressure building inside of him was beyond intense. He could feel sweat beading all across his body, Cold's breath making his over heated and sensitive flesh tingle. 

He wanted to thrust his hips, grind his aching cock down into the mattress, anything to get friction. But, no, he had to wait. He had to be good. All he could do was whine and babble nonsense about how good it felt, how much he loved it, how it was like being in freakin' heaven. 

Cold kept him strung right on the edge for so long that Barry was dizzy when he finally stopped. Cold checked the ropes again, his long fingers lovingly teasing over Barry's cock, drawling, "You always get so wet for me, Mr. Allen." 

Barry could hear him licking his fingers and grunting, shuddering as he replied shakily, "It feels so good, sir." 

Cold had reached into the bedside once more, and Barry felt the familiar cool texture of silicone pressing against his hole. The pressure was tolerable, but couldn't be ignored, groaning as he felt a plug sliding into place. 

But this was something new, something bigger than ones they had used before, and what was that thing in Cold's hand. Barry heard an odd click and holy fuck, the plug vibrated, eliciting a shameless moan from Barry's lip. 

Cold chuckled happily, that bastard, so very pleased with himself. 

Barry groaned, long and low, when the vibrations started up again. They were slow at first, then suddenly pulsing and more intense. They would pause and start again, Barry squirming and crying out from the wonderful sensations. 

He hadn't even noticed Cold moving onto the bed in front of him, quick fingers pulling at his hair and lifting his head up. Right in front of his face was Cold's thick cock, a breath away from his lips. 

"Suck my cock, Mr. Allen," Cold ordered, his hand firmly at the base to spare him a few inches. "Maybe if you do a good job, I'll fuck you." 

Barry whined, opening his mouth and groaning the warmth taste of flesh and salt, eagerly sucking as hard as he could. Cold kept pushing, letting Barry take as much as he wanted down to his fingers, thrusting his hips forward. He was quickly drooling, gagging a little and writhing as the vibrations in his ass grew even stronger. 

Cold was fucking his face slowly, his fingers still tangled tight in Barry's hair as his hips moved forward. He would turn the vibrations down to give Barry a quick reprieve before cranking them back up and choking him with his cock. 

Barry savored every moment, his body on the verge of collapse when the vibrations were at their peak and Cold was pushing his cock deep down into his mouth. He loved Cold using him like this, making him gag and cry out, his skin hot and stinging all over as the temperature inside of him climbed higher and higher. 

"Good boy," Cold soothed, adjusting the vibrations to a low level and pulling his cock away. 

Barry was gasping, blinking away his tears and smiling up at Cold. "I was good?" 

"Mmm, very good," Cold confirmed, lovingly wiping Barry's drool from his chin and licking it from his hand. "Any better and I would have come already." 

Barry's chest surged with a rush of pride, smiling happily. He opened his mouth instinctively as Cold rubbed the head of his cock over his lower lip, teasing him with a quick taste. 

"Mmm, not yet," Cold said, "I much prefer to come inside you... would you like that, Mr. Allen?" 

"Yes, sir," Barry pleaded eagerly, "Please." 

Cold smirked, tapping his cock one more time against Barry's mouth, purring, "Wait right there for me..." 

"Yes, sir." 

Cold slid off the bed, coming around behind Barry to release the spreader bar from between his knees. He sat back on the bed, sitting up against the headboard as he lubed up his cock. He reached for Barry, knowing he still couldn't move well with his arms tied, urging, "Come here. In my lap, your back to my chest." 

Barry eagerly crawled over, Cold's strong arms helping him get into the position he wanted. He was sitting in Cold's lap now, his knees bent with his feet flat on the bed. He felt a little like a frog sitting like this, grateful for Cold's grip holding his arms so he didn't teeter forward. 

"Perfect," Cold praised, reaching down between Barry's cheeks to slowly removed the vibrating plug. He set it aside to clean up later, lifting Barry's hips and teasing at his hole with the head of his cock. 

Barry whined, his head tipping back at the beautiful torture. "God..." 

Cold slowly began to let Barry ease down on his thick cock, groaning appreciatively. 

Barry cried out louder and louder until Cold was fully inside of him, panting as he sat all the way down, full and aching wonderfully. "Fuck... it's so good." 

Cold pushed Barry forward, holding onto his wrist tightly. If he let go, Barry would certainly topple onto his face, gasping at the stretch as Cold shifted beneath him. This angle felt amazing, his legs eager to get moving. 

But Cold was enjoying himself too much, holding Barry's ropes and using his other hand to slide along the curves of his body. He raised him up a little bit, enough to feel around Barry's stretched hole where his cock was filling him up. 

"Beautiful," Cold whispered, sliding his finger around his ass, admiring the tight fit. 

"Thank you, sir," Barry panted. 

"Because you've been so good, I'm going to fuck you," Cold promised, "But first I want to see how much you want it... start fucking yourself on my cock. Use those gorgeous legs of yours. I won't let you fall." 

Barry nodded, flexing his thighs and slowly lifting himself up, letting his body drop back down on Cold's cock. He gasped at how deep it felt this way, adjusting his feet to give himself more leverage, slowly starting to bounce up and down. 

Barry groaned with every slam, swearing that Cold's cock was going right through him. The ropes were pulling against every inch of his body, unable to fully move or stretch and really get into it. 

He pushed himself as hard as he could, thighs burning, his aching cock bobbing as he rode Cold. He wanted to go faster, wanted it to hurt, wanted to feel the burn, but Cold grabbed Barry by his throat, soothing, "Easy, Mr. Allen..." 

Barry tried to slam his hips down, tried to chase that sweet ache, but again Cold stopped him. He squeezed Barry's neck until he gasped, pulling him backwards against him. 

Barry had no choice but to collapse onto his chest, crying out as Cold's other hand snaked around his body to lightly stroke his cock. 

"I told you to be easy," Cold warned, his hand at Barry's neck pressing down so hard that it made him grunt. 

"I want you," Barry begged, broken and damp, whimpering, "I want your fucking come, sir." 

"Be good for me and you'll have it," Cold assured him, drawing his knees and bracing his feet against the sheets, lifting Barry up as he began to lovingly thrust into him. 

Barry went limp in Cold's arms, his legs like noodles as they stretched out, spreading them as wide as he could. He leaned his head back, pressing his mouth against Cold's in a breathless kiss, moaning, "I love you. Fuck, I love you so fucking much." 

All efforts to maintain a patient rhythm fell away at those sweet words, Cold kissing Barry with a frenzied passion, fucking him hard and fast. He growled, cradling the back of Barry's head as his pushed his tongue deep into his mouth. 

Barry squealed, screaming desperately as Cold pounded into him, barely able to keep their lips together for needing air. "Oh, God, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, his fingers clawing at the fabric of Cold's shirt, his toes tightening up and squirming erratically. 

Cold squeezed Barry's cock, stroking him and panting, "Gonna fill you the fuck up, Mr. Allen. Would you like that, huh?" 

"God, please!" Barry begged, his eyes damp and feeling his body crawling to the sweet edge of oblivion. He wanted it to leap so desperately, crying, "Please, please, can I come with you?" 

"Yes," Cold hissed between tight teeth, gasping for harder and harder as his furious pace began to falter, groaning, "Come, Barry... come with me..." 

Barry was so weak, he couldn't hold back, orgasming the moment those words left Cold's lips. His eyes closed, screaming as he cock shot all over his stomach and thighs. 

Cold's cock slammed even harder as Barry's tight ass clamped down on him, growling low as he found his own end. He held Barry close, fingers clawing as he spilled inside of him, jerking his head around for a messy kiss. 

Barry groaned, letting Cold handle him however he wanted, whimpering as his orgasmic joy quickly turned into snug discomfort while he finished. He grunted, whining when Cold's hips finally stilled, gasping, "Fuck..." 

Cold took a long and deep breath, kissing Barry passionately, his hands adoring his entire body. "Exquisite," he purred, carefully moving to start untying the ropes. 

Barry was exhausted, sweaty and completely satisfied. Oh, and sorI. Mmmph. He shuddered as Cold lovingly pulled all the ropes away. He groaned as he was gently laid down, missing that thick cock inside of him already. He pouted, but he couldn't stop smiling when Cold started cleaning him up. 

Cold kissed Barry's wrists where the ropes had left marks, gently massaging his hands to make sure they were getting proper blood flow. He kissed each of his palms when he was satisfied, bowing his head and starting to lick Barry's stomach clean. 

Barry blushed from all the attention, watching his boyfriend lap up every drop. He whimpered when Cold's tongue ducked down between his legs to get a taste of himself. 

Barry was a perfect and happy puddle, smiling when Cold went off to get a damp cloth to make sure he was cleaned up properly. "Mmmph, that was... amazing," he sighed happily. 

"Good?" Cold asked, smiling warmly as he lovingly washed Barry's lean body. 

"Oh, so good," Barry replied quickly. 

Cold nodded, cleaning up the last of the mess and the toy, stepping briefly back into the bathroom. Barry was happy to see him fully stripped down when he came out to join him in bed. 

Barry eagerly moved the covers back, waiting for Cold to stretch out before pouncing. He burrowed against his side, mumbling happy little sounds as Cold curled his arm around his shoulders. 

He gently rested his hand on Cold's chest, toying with his hair and gliding up along his collarbone. 

Cold's eyes were closing, allowing Barry to explore all he wanted, pulling the blankets up around him as he got ready for sleep. He looked peaceful, decades younger. 

"You know what?" Barry smiled warmly, peering at Cold's gorgeous face. 

"Mmm. What?" Cold asked, soft and relaxed. 

"I'm really glad you didn't let Mick burn me," Barry teased, grinning playfully as he nuzzled into Cold's shoulder. 

Cold barked out a short laugh, smirking. "You know I wouldn't have let him burn you. Much." 

"Much, he says," Barry snorted. 

There was a long pause, so long that Barry thought he had fallen asleep. "For what it's worth... I'm sorry," Cold said softly, his eyes opening to look at Barry. 

Barry lifted up his head in surprise, smiling adoringly at his lover. "Hey, it's not exactly the story you wanna tell your kids about, but everybody has to start somewhere." 

Cold didn't say anything, only smiled, his fingers lightly tracing over the remaining impressions from rope left on Barry's wrists. 

Barry snuggled closer, hooking his leg over Cold's thigh. He let his eyes slowly shut, listening to his boyfriend's breathing. While their start was quite unconventional, Barry wouldn't change a thing knowing that it all led to this moment. 

He was so happy. His father was going to be free soon, and he was in love with a gorgeous and kind man; who was also a severely complicated and ruthless gangster, but hey, no one was perfect. 

In his mind though, here in this bed, Cold was pretty damn close. 

"I love you," Barry said quietly as he began to drift off. 

Cold kissed his hair, carefully lacing their fingers together and giving them a gentle squeeze. 

Barry liked to think that was Cold's way of saying it back, falling asleep with a smile on his face. 

When Barry woke up, he was happy to find Cold still in bed with him. He had been pushed almost to the edge of the bed from Barry's aggressive snuggling. Barry also realized he had been sleeping sideways, his arms still around Cold but his long legs were kicked out across the bed. 

Cold was already awake, his eyes still heavy from sleep, but instantly alert when he saw Barry stirring. "Good morning." 

"Mmm, morning," Barry mumbled, rolling over to relinquish his monopoly of the bed. To his delight, Cold moved with him, his strong arms curling around his waist and kissing his shoulder. He could also feel his hard cock digging in against him, giggling, "Mm, very good morning." 

Cold smirked, trailing kisses down Barry's shoulder, promising him, "It's about to be." 

Barry groaned as Cold's wet fingers pressed into him, making the way for his cock to slip inside. Cold's arms wrapped around Barry, slowly connecting their bodies and rocking into him passionately. 

Barry gasped, tangling his fingers with Cold's, grinding back against him. It was slow and beautiful, letting Cold set an intoxicating pace, adoring how he could feel his bare flesh against him. 

He enjoyed the ropes, the toys, the torture; he loved it all. 

But this, making love with nothing between them except a mere breath of space, hearing Cold whisper, "Barry", in his ear, he loved most. 

Cold moved them as the temperature heated up, putting Barry on his back and mounting him again. Barry groaned as his cock slid back home inside of him, his long legs pulling Cold in by his hips and dragging him down for a kiss. 

Cold's tongue slid deep in his mouth, kissing him until Barry was certain he was losing his mind. It was hot and wet, lavishing the inside of Barry's mouth and dancing with his own so sweetly. Cold was pushing deeper and harder, and Barry had to touch every inch of him, nails raking down his back. 

Cold shrugged one of Barry's legs up on his shoulder, plunging impossibly deeper and making Barry cry out sharply. He squeezed Cold's hips, his ass, pulling him in to every thrust, wanting more, wanting it all, sobbing, "God... Len, please, please, just like that!" 

Cold shifted his knees, putting more weight behind his thrusts, kissing Barry hard and sliding a hand in between them to stroke his cock. Barry didn't think he could take much more, groaning as his knees hit his chest. Cold kept the same sweet rhythm, their bodies rocking together as if they were dancing. 

Barry wrapped himself all around Cold, drunk on his sweet lips, screaming out to the heavens as he came. Cold was right behind him, groaning and cursing as he pounded them both through every tremor. Even when their bodies had stopped shaking, Cold sighed and slid his cock in and out a few more times, chasing the last few inklings of pleasure. 

"Yup," Barry agreed, picking up their conversation as if they'd never stopped, "Very good." 

Cold laughed, kissing Barry's forehead. "Very," he confirmed, pulling Barry out of bed and to the bathroom for a much needed shower. Cold didn't dress in a suit for the day afterwards, clearing opting for optimum relaxation by selecting a pair of blue silk pajamas. 

Barry was still only wrapped in a towel, smiling as he watched Cold get ready, teasing, "Gonna go be a badass gangster in your jammies?" 

Cold snorted. "I'm always a badass gangster, thank you so very much. And today, I am going to be badass in my pajamas. I've earned a day of rest." 

"So," Barry teased, "Big ol' Boss Cold wants to... _chill?_ " 

Cold chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling as he laughed, "It's not a bad idea. We've got _snow_ place to go..." 

Barry giggled, "Oh, that was terrible." 

"Hmmph," Cold snorted, "Clearly, you don't know the _frost_ thing about such high brow humor." 

"You're awful." 

"Aw, gonna give me the cold shoulder now, Barry?" 

"Okay, seriously. Where has this ridiculous dorky sense of humor been hiding?" Barry laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Oh, it's been around," Cold assured him, smirking playfully and leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "Get dressed. I'll see you downstairs." 

Barry found a pair of sweatpants and a plain white shirt, brushing his teeth and grinning at himself in the mirror. 

Life was pretty damn good. 

Barry floated down the stairs to the kitchen, all smiles. He could hear Mick and Jerry fighting in a mixture of volatile French and English, Cold snickering to himself as he sipped at a cup of coffee. 

Jerry had already begun to fix plates, waving his spatula at Mick and screaming at him as he tried to steal a handful of bacon. 

"I don't even care what you're saying! Voo-juhhhh-whatever!" Mick roared back, "Don't fuckin' care! I've got a fuckin' date tonight, and you're not gonna ruin my good mood!" 

"Date?" Barry gushed excitedly, sitting down next to Cold and thanking Jerry for the food. 

Jerry mumbled something in French, continuing to stir at the eggs still in the pan. 

Mick looked proud, beaming, "I was finally successful in wooing Doc Snow, and now she's gonna go on a real fuckin' date with me." 

"You mean she felt sorry for you and agreed to one date if it meant you'd finally leave her alone, you uncultured twat," Jerry sneered, angrily scooping eggs onto Barry's plate. 

"Someone is fuckin' jealous," Mick hissed triumphantly as he snatched another piece of bacon, "That the better man has won." 

Jerry started raging on in French, speaking rapidly to Cold and gesturing to Mick while he finished serving their food. 

"Ah, je connais," Cold sighed, waving as if to dismiss Jerry. "Aller." 

"Merci, monsieur," Jerry replied, huffing as he stalked out of the kitchen. 

Mick chuckled heartily, giving Cold and Barry a big grin. "Now, the better man is gonna go get ready for his fuckin' date. You good, Boss?" 

"Very good," Cold replied, smirking. "Hope you two kids have a lovely time." 

"See ya later!" Mick said cheerfully, waving at Barry, "Bye, Twig!" 

"Bye, Mick," Barry replied through a bite of eggs, laughing softly. "What was that about?" 

"They're both admirers of our own dear Caitlyn Snow," Cold said, vying for coffee instead of actually eating. "That's what they always fight about. And Jerry is very disappointed that Mick was successful where he was not. And a bunch of other things about Mick's questionable genetics." 

"You mean you actually understand everything he says?" Barry asked, his brows arching up in surprise. "You speak French?" 

"Oui," Cold replied with a wink. 

"How many languages do you speak?" Barry asked excitedly. 

"Mmm, four," Cold replied with a shrug as if it was nothing to be excited about, "English, of course. Italian, French, and some very decayed Russian." 

"I always thought French was a very beautiful language," Barry gushed, leaning close, "It doesn't matter what you're saying. It just sounds so pretty." 

"Mmm... Je suis ammanchee comme un taureau," Cold purred delightfully. 

"See? No clue what that means, but it sounds beautiful," Barry laughed. 

"Je veux te lécher des hanches jusqu’aux pieds," Cold kept on going, his eyes roaming over Barry's body hungrily. 

"Okay, pretty sure that one was dirty," Barry giggled, laughing louder when Cold scooted closer to him. 

"Je bande pour toi," Cold said seductively, waggling his eyebrows playfully, kissing slowly along Barry's neck. 

"That one was totally and definitely dirty," Barry sighed, his eyes fluttering closed, gasping as Cold's hand grabbed his neck. 

Cold pressed their foreheads together, kissing Barry softly, murmuring passionately, "Je t’aime..." 

Barry blinked, asking quietly, "Wh-what does that one mean?" 

Cold's eyes were gentle, full of light and warmth, his hand softly squeezing Barry's throat as his thumb danced along his jawline, replying, "It means 'I love you', Barry." 

Barry's heart stopped, dropping down into his gut. "You... you said..." 

"Je t'aime aussi," Cold said quietly, "Is how you say 'I love you, too.' In case you were wondering." 

"Juhhhh timmm, oh-seee," Barry replied carefully, trying to imitate Cold's flawless accent. 

Cold leaned in for another kiss, gazing at Barry adoringly and chuckling softly, "Close enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this is it! The end! AGH! Seeee, I told you there would be a happy ending, and look! The smut fairy came twice! Woo! Thank you all for the love and comments and kudos and ahhhh! It's been such a treat to write for you guys, and thank you. Seriously, I can't thank you all enough. I was actually going to stop writing fan fiction before I got sucked into this beautiful fandom, and it's been so wonderful. <3
> 
> I want to give a very special thank you to my bestie, thisisjustsurvival. You all should go thank her, too. If it wasn't for her love and encouragement, I really wasn't going to write again. Cold Hard Cash would not exist without her. She believed in me, my writing, and in my Lenny. She gave me the good juju to start this mobster madness. Thank you, bby. <3
> 
> As promised, I have started a series of oneshots for Cold Hard Cash that you can find right [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548848/chapters/33616761). I can't promise very speedy updates because I will be moving on to work on other things, but I have lots of fun plans for everyone. Just keep an eye out, and thank you! <3
> 
> (Also, also, I don't speak French at all. I literally googled dirty things for Len to say in French. XD)
> 
> Okay, buh-bye!
> 
> -Kat :D
> 
> ~*~*~*~
> 
> UPDATE: According to the wonderfully trashy article I found, the translations for Cold's flirting are as follows:
> 
> 1\. "Je suis ammanchee comme un taureau." I'm hung like a bull.
> 
> 2\. "Je veux te lécher des hanches jusqu’aux pieds." I wanna lick you from your hips to your toes.
> 
> 3\. "Je bande pour toi." I'm hard for you.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Flash(wave) Mob](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14299014) by [Hiver_Frost_Elf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf)




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